Robert Franklin: My name is Robert Franklin. I am conducting an oral history interview with Dan Ostergaard on December 7th, 2016. The interview is being conducted on the campus on Washington State University Tri-Cities. I will be talking with Dan about his experiences working at the Hanford Site. And for the record, can you state and spell your full name for us?
Dan Ostergaard: Okay, my full name is Daniel Vernon Ostergaard. The last name is spelled O-S-T-E-R-G-A-A-R-D.
Franklin: Okay, and your first name?
Ostergaard: Dan. I go by Dan. Daniel, D-A-N-I-E-L.
Franklin: Okay. Great. When I was doing that boilerplate, I almost said December 7th, 1941.
Ostergaard. Me, too. Well, that’s in my—I still live World War II. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Oh. So, tell me how and why you came to the Hanford Site.
Ostergaard: Okay. I got interested in photography in junior high school in Kennewick. And back—that would have been, well, I graduated from high school in ’65.
Franklin: So you’re from the Tri-Cities, then.
Ostergaard: Right, I grew up in Kennewick.
Franklin: Okay, and when were you born?
Ostergaard: December 27th, 1946.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: So, I got interested in photography kind of through the chemistry class. I was a lab assistant, and the guy who was doing the yearbook needed somebody that’d shoot pictures. And I had done a little bit of stuff with my mom’s help at home, so that just sort of got the ball rolling. Did the usual school stuff, graduated Kennewick High School. And in high school, shot pictures for the yearbook. We had kind of a unique situation where the yearbook actually provided us the facilities, but they actually bought the pictures from us. So we were in essence a little business.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: We had our accounts down at the local drug store that had a photo counter. And it was a real good training thing. We were given assignments—the yearbook advisor was named Mr. Shields, and he said, I need a one-column-wide picture about four inches high and I want four faces in it. I don’t care what they’re doing. I just want four faces. They won’t buy the book unless their face is in it. So that was kind of the direction we were given, and it was up to us to figure it out. And after I finished high school, went to CBC. In high school, I also worked at a portrait lab named Dave Studio in Kennewick, in the back processing film and prints and doing all the things you do. And continued that at CBC. I had my own stuff shooting on the side. And then I went to WSU in Pullman for two years. Through that time, I had worked two summers for the Hanford photo group. One summer in the Federal Building, and one summer in 300 Area in 3705 Building. It was Vietnam era. I enlisted, went in for two-and-a-half years. Got an early out when they were winding down. I called up my boss, Lance Michael, and I said, hey, I’m getting out of the service; you got any work? And he kind of said, when can you be here? I said, in a month? Okay, you’re hired. That was the interview. Of course, I’d interviewed for two summers prior, in essence. [LAUGHTER] So I started doing lab tech work, just kind of whatever was needed to be done. The reason that was so attractive, because the Hanford photo group was like Disneyland. There was everything there somebody with my background could aspire to want. We had the ability to do all the photo processes. We had very competent photographers. They were hired mostly out of Brooks Institute down in Santa Barbara. We called them Brookies. The lab people sort of saved the Brookies a lot, we thought. [LAUGHTER] After I got out of the service, we had just opened up the photo lab in 3706—they’d moved it from the old wood lab building at 3705. Went over there, and then just kind of evolved into doing higher, higher level things. The photo group had three different photo labs at the time. One in the Federal Building, one in the basement of the ROB, the Battelle building, and then one in 300 Area. They had all evolved for a specific purpose. The Federal Building lab was to keep the AEC/DOE people connected. The ROB lab was just directly for supporting Battelle at the time. They had just gotten the contract in, I think, ’64.
Franklin: What does ROB stand for?
Ostergaard: Research Operations Building.
Franklin: Research Operations Building, okay.
Ostergaard: Yeah, and then 300 Area, we did all kinds of things. And this was all pre-computer era. So we had—different labs did specific things. The color was done initially in the Federal Building. The ROB was pretty much black-and-white and copy work. And we did big enlarging and things like that. So some things, the jobs had to move back and forth to each lab’s specialty. So we actually had a courier who started at the Federal Building, picked up stuff and dropped off on the way out.
Camera man: I need to interrupt this. I don’t think this is moving. I don’t see any numbers changing or anything.
Ostergaard: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Really?
Jillian Gardner-Andrews: Oh no.
Camera man: It’s bothering me.
[VIDEO CUTS]
Franklin: …records digital, so I don’t—
Camera man: Well, keep going. Let’s—I guess--
Ostergaard: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: He’ll get better a second time. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So you’re saying that each lab had its own specialty—
Ostergaard: Right.
Franklin: And that there was a courier.
Ostergaard: Right, right. And because each lab was separate, and there wasn’t a computer, the cloud, or anything like that, everybody had their own numbering system.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: Which has led to complications to this day.
Franklin: Tell me about it.
Ostergaard: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: I process a lot of photos from onsite and it’s always very confusing as to why some are stamped 300 Area, why some are stamped Battelle, why some are stamped 700 Area, and this is—I want you to go into this in detail for me.
Ostergaard: Okay, so, well, we’ll do that numbering thing then. If you see anything like with a 2-digit and then like an A or a B or a C and then three digits afterwards, those are from the ROB lab.
Franklin: Sorry, two-digit, ABC, and then three numbers?
Ostergaard: Yeah, the idea—first of the year, they would start out at A, and then run with the numbers, you know, the first two digits? So you could look at that. The first two was the year, always. And the second one was just an arbitrary A, and then if it ran through 999, they went to B and upward. The Federal Building numbers started out pretty much as four-digit numbers. And that was a carryover from the GE photo lab days. Some of those things I still never have figured out what they did. And then 300 Area just started out with the year, 7, 8, whatever. And then generally they’d run four digits. It got to be later on they would run five because they were running out of space. And then in 1992, we had our own computer system written, so it kind of linked up. Those dates always started with the first of the year and then the month, you know, 01. And then there was three digits after that. So by looking at those numbers, if you see an 89 blah, blah, blah, you’d know that was shot in 1989.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: So that was some of the numbering systems. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: And then there were other—we supported some of the metallurgical labs and things who had their own thing going on also. So we supported a lot of specialty labs in the 300 Area, doing things then. So we would process film for them, make prints, and give them back everything. We were doing fuel studies where they would take fuel pins from bundles that had been through the reactor process, and in the 327 Building, section them remotely—because they’re screaming hot—and usually those things were about the diameter of a pencil. So they’d slice that across. And then through periscopes, using 70 millimeter film and Hasselblad cameras is actually shoot like an aerial mosaic of that thing at 75x or 125x magnification. We would process that film, print it on a machine printer 2x, and then literally mosaic them together. So you’d end up with like a large pizza. And that would show the cladding and then what had happened to the fuel inside. These things were fairly important. They spent a lot of money making them, so—
Franklin: Right. That sounds like very technical work.
Ostergaard: Well it was, yeah. We had at all levels. From the PR thing to the technical part. And you supported a lot of engineers for reports. We did a lot of what would be promotional stuff now for people to go back to DC and whatever, for pushing their project to get funds. In addition to—and then of course just reprinting. Negatives were in the file. And that was the other part of the problem with the negatives, is they were retired, not in any systematic order, they were just—when the lab ran out of space, we’d box up five cabinets’ worth of negatives, send them off to storage—you know, with the transmittal. But still—and then it got complicated—well, you know, I say, all this sounds silly, but it was all at the time very rational. You can’t judge—[LAUGHTER] They were doing good, actually, for what they were doing. But the specific photographers tended to work out of specific labs. Because we usually had seven or eight full-time photographers going at that time. And some of these guys were more specialized in technical things, and some of them were more people-oriented. And so, you had to kind of assign the right type of personality to the job. You didn’t want to assign a technical person to go out and shoot a PR thing somewhere. That would get you in trouble. [LAUGHTER] They just weren’t groomed for that.
Franklin: Right.
Ostergaard: [LAUGHTER] We had—along those lines—you know, the thing we had a difficulty with in hiring is we would—we were looking for pretty high-end lab tech people, too. So a lot of these folks would be coming out of Brooks with all this money they’ve spent training, and they couldn’t get a photo job. So we would hire them, but we’d caution them all the time—this is not going to lead to a photo job. We’re hiring you to do this technical thing. A few of them evolved over, and it was very frustrating for some folks who—I’m not doing what I want to do. But we already have—you know. So there’s always that line [LAUGHTER] of doing that. And again, back then, we were self-contained. The security was much tighter—I don’t know if you’ve went out to Energy Northwest lately or anything, or if you’ve ever been there, where they’re looking under your car with mirrors and all kinds of things. In the ‘70s and ‘80s, our security was pretty tight.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: The photographers, on the badge, they had the areas listed in a grid, the areas they had access to. So it was pretty tight, and we were playing TSA going in the gates at that point. We got so you just put your lunch in a plastic bag and just walk by and hold it up. It wasn’t metal detectors, but it was security. So that led to interesting things. The 300 Area lab was the largest, and we probably had the most people of any of them. We did pretty much our own maintenance. These were all chemical processes that needed to be maintained. So there was a great deal of quality control work going on, of running test strips and reading them and adjusting the chemistries. And just the simple things of inventory. We had a phenomenal—we had pretty much one person, that’s all they did was inventory. You know, ordering stuff, seeing that it was in, and then basically rotating the stock, so that we were using the oldest first. There was a lot of stuff going on. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So you worked mostly at the 300?
Ostergaard: Right.
Franklin: Okay, and then how many people worked at that operation?
Ostergaard: Probably, 20, 25.
Franklin: Oh, wow, okay.
Ostergaard: Yeah. And the ROB was smaller—I’d say it was about four.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Ostergaard: And the Federal Building, they did the color and they could also—everybody could do black-and-white; that was just by default. And that was probably more like a dozen. And then there was a video—motion picture group down there also. At probably the height of everything, we were probably running 62 people. And during FFTF construction, we were doing a shift-and-a-half, basically.
Franklin: And that would just be documenting the construction?
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah. And then all the other stuff. Because everything that had to do with FFTF was a huge project. It wasn’t just building the facility you see, the white dome out there. There was a high bay in 300 Area, all kinds of research on—oh my god, it was huge. And so there was people busy all the time doing that. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Okay. Did you have much contact with the video people?
Ostergaard: Not a whole lot.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Ostergaard: That was kind of a different world.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Ostergaard: There was also kind of the contention—not necessarily nasty—between the labs.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: There was always a bit of tension there, that—ah, them dummies they screwed up again, so we got to run down there. There was a lot of that stuff going on.
Franklin: Like kind of like a friendly competition?
Ostergaard: Pretty much. Mostly friendly. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Mostly friendly? Did you know anybody that worked at the other labs or in the video group that’s still around that might want to talk to us?
Ostergaard: Let me think that through.
Franklin: Okay. We just--our collection—sorry, go ahead.
Ostergaard: No, I was going to say—yeah, I’m just thinking. Because I think Bud Mace is gone. Don Brauer’s gone. Yeah, it’s really thinned out. Thinned out everywhere. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: As happens. We have several hundred videos in our collection.
Ostergaard: Right.
Franklin: So it would be interesting to talk to somebody about that. Why they filmed certain—because some of them are very interesting films of processes and—so it’s kind of—
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah. They were highly technical. We had a technical person who was just in charge of doing extremely technical things. He was out of RIT. And he did some fabulous stuff. I always enjoyed hanging around Roland.
Franklin: RIT?
Ostergaard: Rochester Institute, yeah. And, again, it was—we had to support ourselves. There was no FedEx in the day. And not getting something done because something broke was not an excuse. That was not acceptable. So you always had at least two or three ways of getting something done. That was—and we always did come through; we had a reputation for that.
Franklin: How long did you work at the 300 Area lab?
Ostergaard: Pretty much—well, the last year—it was probably 25, 30 years straight.
Franklin: So you started in ’72, right?
Ostergaard: Yeah.
Franklin: So you would have gone into the early—late ‘90s, early 2000s.
Ostergaard: Something like that. Well, there was a migration. Everything wound down. As things closed down, the ROB lab was closed first.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: We moved that activity out to 300 Area.
Franklin: And do you know roughly when that was?
Ostergaard: Oh, I hate telling it wrong. ’78, something like that. And as things tightened up a little bit more, we actually closed down the Federal Building lab, which was on the third floor. Much to the happiness of the computer people, because there were leaks on the third floor out of all these processors. We had catch pans and stuff under everything.
Franklin: Oh, the chemical—
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah, these are all wet processes. Nothing digital there.
Franklin: And do you know when the Fed—
Ostergaard: God, again, that’s just kind of murky. It’s—
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: You know, the big change happened for us when the contract changed in about ’87 or ’88.
Franklin: And that was from Westinghouse—
Ostergaard: Well, we were actually Battelle.
Franklin: You were Battelle, okay.
Ostergaard: Right. And the contract changed—consolidation, they liked to call it. We ended up getting transferred over to Boeing. Most of the service groups went as a package to Boeing. And then when Boeing came out and Lockheed came in, then we all were moved to Lockheed. So, as it wound down, we had a couple of pretty big layoffs where you just feel like a survivor the day it’s done, when they lay off twelve people in your group and there’s four of you left. Stuff like that. [LAUGHTER] So we kept plugging away out there, and then they finally found enough money to make us go digital.
Franklin: That’s good—I was going to ask about that. What year was that?
Ostergaard: Let’s see, I’m trying to think of what machines we were using. We were in the Apple side of the world at that point. And, you know, 7200 Mac or something was pretty jazzy at the time. [LAUGHTER] You know? So again, those dates are just—I could probably do some thinking on that, but I’d just hate to say something specific. But as we wound down, then they decided that we were too big of an expense to be in 3706. So we ended up moving down to the Snyder Building. This was under Lockheed. And set up shop down there. And of course, I was always—by that time, I had migrated my work into more doing archival stuff. I kind of just created that, in a way. I got tired of people asking for stuff that I knew we had, that nobody could find.
Franklin: Right.
Ostergaard: And so I just started—in the time when I didn’t have anything better to do, I just literally started going through the drawers. And that kind of got me the bug. [LAUGHTER] So my intention was to make a three-ring binder with Hanford’s 100 greatest pictures. That was my first goal. Well, that pretty quickly evolved into about 35 or 40 binders—
Franklin: Yeah, I was going to say, that’d be kind of—
Ostergaard: Yeah, well you didn’t realize what you were up against, you know. So you get to the point where you say, okay, I’ve got enough stuff here to make a collection of each of the reactor areas. So there’d be the 100-B book, there’d be the—you know. And do that. And then as a spin-off I would do aerials. Wherever I’d had enough stuff to organize, I would make another binder. And then, oh, about around 2000, when Hazel Leary was head of the Department of Energy, she was due in for this great opening up of all the information. And they started a project at DDRS—
Franklin: DDRS?
Ostergaard: Yes. And that worked out of the library there at 300 Area. They had, I think, five or six derivative de-classifiers. And they had a couple of students out there. Their goal was to scan 100 negatives a day. And they would arbitrarily take a storage box—have you ever seen a storage box? A real Hanford box?
Franklin: No, I don’t know if I’ve seen a Hanford box.
Ostergaard: Okay, well, most of these things early on—most everything was four-by-five negatives. So it was a half-cubic-foot box about yea high with a top that comes off. And then inside, there’d be rows, and there’d be a manila envelope with glassines, mostly, where there’d be a date and stuff written on them. And that was kind of—you got the date range to and from. And they started out and they did about 55 boxes. I don’t know how they were necessarily selected. But they did that. And the first box they did, they came down to us and wanted to see how they were doing. We had a higher-end scanner than they did. They were running off $150 scanners at the time, which was basically trash.
Franklin: Yeah, really low DPI.
Ostergaard: Yeah, you see some of those things now, those really crappy looking things. That was out at that project.
Franklin: Like 400k-size image files, if you’re lucky.
Ostergaard: Yeah, right.
Franklin: We get requests about images that people find online and they’re like, do you have a higher version of that? And I was like, that was scanned in 2002. Like, you know, sorry.
Ostergaard: Well, that’s the disconnect now. And they keep talking about getting me out there to help put some of that to bed and maybe leave a better trail than we did. It’s—yeah. [LAUGHTER] It’s an art to find some of that stuff.
Franklin: I bet.
Ostergaard: And you can’t do it—I don’t know what the mechanism is—I’ve been out of there now two-and-a-half years. So I don’t know if there’s anything in place. But I had pretty much, at the time, looking for things, I had the ability to request boxes endlessly. And so what I would do was I would get out my notebooks and stuff with all the transmittals and all my little notes I had made on the side. I had hand-written sheets for every time I’d order a box. And this went on for years. I would note the box and the date, and then I would look for what I wanted. But then anything else that was interesting in there, I would go ahead and make a note of it so I could backtrack a little bit. And that’s what I hope—that stuff hasn’t been disrupted too badly that it can’t get in there and say, this is golden. It looks awful, but this will really save you. [LAUGHTER] So, that takes a lot of dead-ends, but it also leads you to discoveries. And there was always the push to put more stuff into iDMS. My project for four years, one of the clerks, name of Bonnie Campo and I, pretty much, we did 20,000 a year into ARMIS, the database at the time. The selection process—that was my call. We’d literally start going through the files, and anything to do with helping the site be cleaned up, remediated, construction—all that was golden stuff. So that was the selection process for that. And then if I found—and I kind of took it upon myself—there were some culturally significant things, I’d put those in, too. So I would scan them, I’d transfer them to Bonnie, she would upload them with appropriate information. So we did 20,000 a year, so we did 80,000.
Franklin: Wow. What do you—can you expand on culturally significant things?
Ostergaard: Well, things like back in the ‘50s, where they would have pensioners’ dinners. They celebrated the employees. They weren’t disposable. They were treated with much more respect—this is all my personal stuff. [LAUGHTER] But it was celebrated more. And then also, up until ’58, ’59, the City of Richland was a company town.
Franklin: Yeah.
Ostergaard: Basically owned by GE. And they documented all kinds of cool stuff. So, a lot of that would go in. And just things like the first house being sold. And things like that. And then just the culture—the pictures of the safety prizes. If everybody—the thermoses and things. And then probably not socially appropriate things anymore of get some gal up on a ladder for Friday the 13th holding a broken mirror. And just stuff like that. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Any idea where those—where do those pictures live now, or those negatives? Do they—
Ostergaard: Oh! It’s all at 3212, the newest records—
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Ostergaard: Yeah, that’s pretty much where everything is, that I know about. And I’ve tried the damnedest to find everything. It gets to be a challenge. [LAUGHTER] But those first ones they did, that was where what we dubbed the DuPont Collection came out of and the GE Collection. Those first five boxes were the D numbers, the P numbers. Those were, of course, the most interesting ones, and that caught my eye right now. And then ultimately when they were asking, what could we do—national archives, they want stuff from us; we’ve never given them anything. And by that time I’d kind of rescanned a lot of the what I call the D numbers, the DuPont ones, just because they were very, very useful.
Franklin: Is that what the D stands for, then, on that?
Ostergaard: Okay, okay, let me go through that. There’s a set of numbers—or prefixes. D stood for Determinant, of all things. I found down, when the CREHST Museum was still operating, I had enough leeway, I would go down and kind of mine their resources. And I found the memo one day that directed from somebody in Delaware that they wanted this thing photographically copied, and it set the parameters for each eight-by-tens of each shot and to show construction progress. So there was the P number which was progress. D was determinant. There’s a few Es, which were emergencies. That wasn’t used too much. There was S for safety. And there was M for meteorological. I think I got them all. And the D ones—well, of course the P is progress, and what they generally did for—I mean, down to outhouses almost. They would shoot every couple of weeks or whenever something significant happened, shoot that. So you can combine those into collections of a particular building being built down to small little workshops and things. I found that memo down there, and then I found the part that is really the key to that thing, is there were—since everything was automatically classified at some level, just by nature of it existing, it was classified. And they had to move these around to get things made or whatever. So since it was classified, there had to be a transmittal for every time it moved. So here were these onionskin sheets that listed a set of numbers. And it said, okay, this was D such-and-such, taken on such-and-such a day, and this is what it was. That was just part of the security routine. So there was the marker that described that image by default.
Franklin: Right, yeah, the metadata kind of—
Ostergaard: Right, exactly.
Franklin: Produced in an ancillary process to—
Ostergaard: Right, so I kind of went, oh, how about this! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah, that’s something.
Ostergaard: So I handwrote some notebooks just so I could find that stuff easier. And—oh, also, what happened—there was a lady before I ever—I never even met her, name of Flo. She was the archival records genius lady. She could find anything. Flo Unterhagen, I believe her name was. And there was somebody in the ‘70s had taken all of those DuPont negatives. They looked kind of like—from the surface—like they’d kind of lived a rough life. Like they had probably just been thrown in boxes and stuff. And somebody organized those into the storage boxes, each with an individual manila envelope and the number on the outside, and that was about it. But somebody had organized that. Somewhere in the ‘70s, near as I can tell. And then the other—the GE ones were dubbed the Flo Five. Those were very significant. Because that was building up to the Cold War stuff. So that was the second project that I suggested to them. The first one was actually what we dubbed the Settler Collection. When I was doing my work for getting those 80,000 in there, I kept coming up with pictures of people prior to Hanford.
Franklin: Right, the residents in the towns of White Bluffs and Hanford.
Ostergaard: Right, so I kind of got the bug at that point. And some of the folks I knew—Annette Heriford, I knew her from—she worked in the photo group.
Franklin: Really?
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah!
Franklin: I didn’t—
Ostergaard: Yeah, Annette, yeah.
Franklin: We just recently got the collection of Harry Anderson.
Ostergaard: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: A lot of his photos and things.
Ostergaard: Good old Harry! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: But we’ve been going through those, and I know that he worked with Annette and with the White Bluffs and Hanford Reunion--
Ostergaard: Right.
Franklin: Organization.
Ostergaard: So I went to the last five or six of those things, and almost was accepted. But I did work for the government, so that automatically made me suspicious. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Oh, right.
Ostergaard: Harry was a piece of work. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: I’ve heard!
Ostergaard: Yeah, one time, on one of the tours, we all went out on a bus. And I come out, and what I did—I had the van, the photo van, and I had some composite, big map things I’d made. We had the ability to mount and laminate and everything. So I would show up with the van, would hang these things around the side of the van just as talking points for these people, and that would get the conversations going. They’d start to look at that and go, oh, well there’s my place, and then off you go. Cool stuff. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: That’s really neat.
Ostergaard: And so Harry was out there one day, had the van, and he was trying to—he said, you know, you’ve got a van here, how about we go over here and look at something? And I was going, ehh, I’ve got to get back to town. It’s like, I don’t want to get loose with Harry! [LAUGHTER] Get in all kinds of trouble. But, yeah, he was something else.
Franklin: And he also worked for—
Ostergaard: He was a security type.
Franklin: The Project.
Ostergaard: Yeah, oh, god, yeah. Well the rumors I’d hear was he’d hang around in bars, basically, and if people were talking too much, get them called in for—he was something else. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, he was one of the—it’s just so interesting that he’s this transitional figure between White Bluffs and then—
Ostergaard: Yeah. Well he was in the right position, and probably rogue enough to—
Franklin: Yeah.
Ostergaard: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: And then you said Annette worked for the photo group, okay. Did you she work for your photo group?
Ostergaard: She was down in the Federal Building. And so we always got along real well. She was a stickler. I’d show her stuff, and boy, if she thought that date was wrong, she was on your case like—[LAUGHTER] But so when they said, what can we give to the National Archives? I said, well, I’ve been collecting up these images, and I know a lot about them. And there are about 200 of them. So, we did the whole process as a trial thing, and pulled retired negatives out of our files to them and kind of learned the whole process. And it got a lot of nice press, and that’s what they wanted. They were making progress. And that went so well, they said, well, what next? And I said, well, we’ve got all this stuff DuPont shot. We’ve pretty well got it all scanned into our files. We’ve kind of got all the information out of it we’re going to need. So, we went ahead then and retired those over there. Which, again, was great for everybody concerned. It’s nice to kind of get them over there. I think it was five boxes, six boxes. And then the third series we did was GE—kind of the same thing, again. So we got a little more sophisticated each time. And then also the ability of iDMS to take file sizes got better each time. We were kind of held down to, oh, ten-meg JPEG compressed at first. And they would only take JPEGs. And then by the time we got to GE, it was like, well, pretty much just send us anything you want. Which was just the evolution of the whole thing. So I was making pretty good-sized scans.
Franklin: And is that how—so, I’m a little confused. Did you send the originals to NARA, or did you send the scans to NARA?
Ostergaard: No, they didn’t want anything to do with digital; they wanted the physical stuff.
Franklin: But you scanned the originals and put them into iDMS.
Ostergaard: Right, yeah.
Franklin: Oh, so is that still in iDMS, to your knowledge?
Ostergaard: Yeah! If you get ahold of somebody who can get you to the collections, it’s under the GE collection or the DuPont collection.
Franklin: Because we have access to iDMS.
Ostergaard: Okay, now it’s not—things are hardly ever taken out of iDMS, so you do a D number or something, you might come up with the old, nasty scan, you might come up with the one we put in.
Franklin: Okay, I’ll make sure to look at the file type and size.
Ostergaard: Yeah, because that’s—it’s a quirky thing to use. ARMIS, its predecessor for photos, was much better. And what we did a lot of—the folks—and this is what I learned—when they were doing their initial work on the DuPont stuff, they were making their best guesses to what it was they were looking at. Because they didn’t—they just had a negative and an envelope. And so a lot of those were way off. So Bonnie and I—if you had spare time, you’d just go, show me everything from 1952 or something. And they migrated all the stuff over from the Battelle system into ARMIS system. Of course, the things never fit the right boxes. And so we kind of just reworked the information—we had the ability to do that. Put structure in the structure box, and maybe leave the title. Because a lot of times they would write the title with the structure in it. So, it was—again, it was kind of an art form. [LAUGHTER] To define stuff. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Right, I’m totally aware.
Ostergaard: You’re finding that out.
Franklin: Well, I’ve been in archives for a little while, so I’ve seen—
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah. Well I had the big battle with the GE thing. They wanted to change the filename around to suit their system which then totally destroyed the providence of the damn negative. It just—ugh. [LAUGHTER] So, every time you do a move, you lose something, pretty much.
Franklin: Oh, yeah.
Ostergaard: And what we did for GE by then—security—we’d kind of gotten really in tune with security folks and their concerns. They wanted to know what we’d sent off. A lot of times, they were more concerned about the envelope than the negative.
Franklin: Right, because the envelope has the information and description.
Ostergaard: Right. By the time we got down to the GE stuff, I was overscanning the negative. I was scanning—put it on the flatbed and scan outside the boundaries of the actual negative itself. So they could see whatever had been written in the boundaries. I wasn’t cropping or doing anything like that. I was all about giving you the whole package.
Franklin: Right, because you can also crop that out later.
Ostergaard: Later, right. See, that’s what—you can’t put it back. I’ve always looked at is as me being the intermediary in this process, for somebody like me 30 years from now. I don’t want to box them in—I learned that real quick. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: It’s so refreshing to talk with somebody who understands--
Ostergaard: Yeah.
Franklin: The basics and things like provenance and—
Ostergaard: Yeah. Because things tie together later.
Franklin: Yeah, they do. And you need that if you’re coming at it without that institutional knowledge.
Ostergaard: Oh, my. Well, then, the other thing, I’m sure you’ve discovered it by now, is like the DuPont final report. The four-volume—
Franklin: [inaudible]
Ostergaard: Oh, boy. Okay, DuPont published, probably in February or March of ’45, what they called their final report. It’s four volumes, 1,500 pages where they do an incredibly good job of describing what they did without saying a damn word about what they did.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: Or what it was for.
Franklin: Right, that sounds—
Ostergaard: That thing is—that, and Groves’ diaries if you can stand—not Groves, Matthias’ diaries—those things. But I’ll get you the Hanford numbers for those DuPont things. Because that is a treasure trove. Once you get in there and start reading, you realize they did everything for a purpose and a reason.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: It was—and a lot of it—and then there’s some very miscellaneous other reports that link pictures to things that are—but that DuPont report gives you an incredible insight.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: Into what they did. Yeah, that’s—when I finally discovered that, I was going, oh, my god. It was so fun over the years, you kept having these—oh my god, I know what this is for. [LAUGHTER] It just evolved, you know, more and more into me doing archival things and less and less the other. Of course, I carried a big footprint around because I had all these negatives attached to me. And so we moved to Snyder, we actually had to have the floor reinforced where these—these are great big fireproof safes. So to get them down there—and I had them all fitted in, and then we were there for several years and then they wanted to move us to the Garlick Building over here. And so they’d give me a room to put stuff in, and then as we got it over there, the movers got all the cabinets moved in there, and then the powers that be decided, no, we don’t want to file the negatives here. We want to use this room for storing our junk or something. So, that was rather traumatic that day. [LAUGHTER] So I ended up putting my stuff in moving boxes around the hall in various places, and I was still working out of them. What I did when I was unloading the drawers, I color-coded each file cabinet. I had a number for each cabinet, and then a little chip of paper that corresponded to that. And then I would start a drawer one, box one, drawer one, box two, right on down the row. Finally, after a year or two of that, they ended up moving me down to the 712 Building, which is now where they’re building the new—across from the Richland Library where they’re building the new City Hall. That was the original records place, built in ’51 or ’52. It was just a big concrete bunker, basically. [LAUGHER] Which is a really cool place. So I ended up getting moved into there in some space. The print people—the union print shop was still there at the time, so it was me and them. And I loved that place; it was just Hanford from the ‘50s. It hadn’t changed a bit. We stayed in there, and of course that was a very expensive building to maintain because it was all full of asbestos and that kind of stuff. So that’s when we ended up getting moved to 3212 and they were building 3220 to store the collection. So that’s where I got out there with all my stuff again. So I had, like I say, this huge footprint carrying these negatives around. [LAUGHTER] And that was a great place to work for an archivist. It was in the back of the building, back with all the pipes and everything. Nobody bothered you; you were just back there doing your thing. It was great.
Franklin: And so how long did you—you don’t still work out there?
Ostergaard: No.
Franklin: No, and when did you finally retire?
Ostergaard: Well, they asked me to leave two-and-a-half years ago. One of those. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: One of those early retirement, or kind of--?
Ostergaard: Yeah, it was like—hi? You’d walk in there, the human resources lady is there. Like, okay, I know what this is. It’s like, okay, don’t blow it. [LAUGHTER] Just make nice. Nothing good will come out of anything other than being nice. So that was two-and-a-half years ago. So what you’re seeing me now doing is volunteer work. I got connected up with Colleen and stuff. And I still thrive on doing this stuff. That’s why I’m doing it.
Franklin: Great.
Ostergaard: I love access. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. And so you still have your clearance and everything to get in there?
Ostergaard: Nope. Well, see, that’s all B Reactor, see, it’s open to the public.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Ostergaard: I’ll do it again coming up this year. The Russians come over for their reactor inspection tour, PPRA, yearly. That’s a treaty that we signed with them in late ‘90s, I think it was. We inspect each other’s reactors to see what’s happening and make sure that, one, we’re not making plutonium, and two, they are because they’re dual-purpose reactors, what they’re doing with it, apparently. So I was doing that for five or six years before. And I found it quite fascinating. It’s something you have to be respectful and careful. We duplicate the picture we shot the year prior for their report they make. If the building still exists. And now it’s getting down to a little bit of 100-K West and B Reactor. So I’ve really—the PNNL folks like it because I’ve done it enough, they—Battelle knows me; the Russians know me. And everybody likes that uniformity. So that’s a fun thing to do, for me. And that one, again, you get a temporary badge where we’re going. I truck along. And do different pictures real quick for them, and then we have a final banquet where they sign the report and everything. That’s always quite interesting.
Franklin: Oh, yeah, I bet.
Ostergaard: It’s really cool. They love to toast everything. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yes, they do.
Ostergaard: It takes a while.
Franklin: Yeah, I’ve been to Eastern Europe. Toasts are a way of life.
Ostergaard: Oh, god. So anyway, I’m still doing that and I’m looking forward to doing more of that.
Franklin: That’s really great. How did you get involved with BRMA, the B Reactor Museum Association?
Ostergaard: Well, it was kind of after I quit working out there regular. These guys, I was aware of them, you know. And so one of them called me up and said, you know, we’re looking for something. And everybody’s always calling me, looking for something. He said, you know, you ought to join. And I said, well, I probably should just to keep my hand in things. So that’s kind of how I became connected with it. And it’s really neat to sit in a room where there’s twenty guys who really knew their stuff. It’s something else, to have that ability. So I’ve been doing that. And then of course, I hear of things coming down the road and kind of watched the national park thing develop, and getting involved with Colleen. Every once in a while I have to remind her: you got something coming up, do you need pictures? Oh, yeah. [LAUGHTER] But that was the way out there. We always, especially when we were working for Lockheed. Lockheed was working on getting the MSA contract. So they were in the full PR, look how good a company we are, you should have us do the contract thing. So we were doing all kinds of stuff, back, again, ten years ago, things weren’t as tight as they are now. So our display group was actually making all kinds of display stuff for Lockheed Corporate under Linda Goodman. She grew her outfit quite large, but we went along for that ride. So we had people to go just do nothing but do displays and take them out. That was not a Hanford-related thing, but it was—we kind of had the ability to do all kinds of stuff. Which has always be exciting to be involved with something like that.
Franklin: Right, to make some things from site-specific to like more PR.
Ostergaard: And of course everything couldn’t be done fast enough. And you learn there that when they want it, they want it, but they don’t think they want it. So you have to sort of manage your managers in a way. You have to be ready to—well, they haven’t asked yet, but you know they’re going to want. You just learn after you get—
Franklin: How was the transition to digital photography for you as a photographer and someone that works—and an archivist—I’m kind of curious as to how you’ve managed that transition.
Ostergaard: Well, for some reason it was much harder than it should have been to get the digital equipment. Somehow it got involved with the printing people and how much elaborate stuff they go through to buy equipment. And we had people high up go, how in the hell is this taking so long? You just go buy some computers. But it’d somehow gotten into somewhere where you had to write things of why this would be good, and—ugh. It just drug on interminably. So we did—on the computer part, we had—the film scanner was always kind of a difficult thing, because they just weren’t that good at the time. And we’d always kind of prided ourselves in doing good things, exceptional things. Well, that’s when the thing I should mention of the evolution of film sizes. Four-by-five was kind of the standard from the ‘40s. When I came out there, I had to have the fortune, through our little business arrangements at the high school—I was making money, actually—and I needed a camera to shoot. Because they weren’t giving me anything. So I ended up buying a Hasselblad of all things in 1965.
Franklin: That’s an expensive—for a high schooler--
Ostergaard: The list price was 600 bucks.
Franklin: Yeah, that’s like a car.
Ostergaard: And the local photo camera down there, the guy, he knew I was looking for one and I was a regular. He said, well, he said, you know, if you can keep your mouth shut, I’ve had this Hasselblad way too long here in my inventory. He said, it cost me 435 bucks. I’ll sell it to you for my cost to move it. So I got it at a discount. I still have it. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. Well, those are cameras that you—I mean, you pass those down.
Ostergaard: Oh, god, yeah. So I’ve still got all the stuff. So I was kind of primed up and then I started working summers out there. And then you see all the real—the stuff you see at magazines here, it is in front of you. So as it evolved, when I went out there, they weren’t shooting Speed Graphics, they were shooting Linhof Technikas. Big, huge, gorgeous cameras. Heavy as—and then there were view cameras, too, because of just the technical stuff that they did. And then it kind of evolved into two-and-a-quarter roll film, which was principally a Hasselblad with a set of lenses. Everybody had one. Everybody pretty much had a Technika setup, they had view cameras, and they had the Hasselblads. And 35 millimeter was considered miniature, and it was only for shooting slides, pretty much. And that kept on, and some of the illustrator types in Battelle wanted to have that editorial look so they would go shoot black-and-white. So they’d get the grain look and all that stuff. But the thing of choice was two-and-a-quarter roll film. And then of course it evolved from black-and-white and then the color started slipping in there. They were shooting some color sheet film, and it seemed like the preferred way at that point was transparencies first. And there are still some of those floating around in the files. And then it would move over into 50/50 black-and-white. Sometimes they’d go out and shoot black-and-white and color at the same assignment if they had the time. Sometimes you were moving around, you couldn’t do that. But they still wanted black-and-white prints versus color, because color was considered premium cost. So to make it look like you were not wasting money, you had it done in black-and-white. I’ve had people tell me that I don’t care what it costs, but I don’t want it to look like I spent any money. [LAUGHTER] You know, you’re out there, you just roll with whatever—and that’s part of the key to my being there so long, was I was quite flexible in going with whatever. You could do—so anyway, it evolved into roll film. And then we finally, on the digital thing, when we finally got this block of equipment, I think they bought two Nikon D1s. Which, probably your cell phone now would—[LAUGHTER] But we had all the Nikon stuff, so it was a natural to go with that, because the lenses still were compatible. And that was the beauty of that. We always were Nikon out there, just because we had massive amounts of lenses and everything.
Franklin: That’s why I always buy Canons, because I just inherited Canons.
Ostergaard: That’s what you do. There’s no sense in reinventing the wheel there. So that’s kind of how that evolved. And you can see that. And also you can see the quantities of negatives shot increase with the smaller film. Sheet film, you’re pretty—there’s a lot of work involved loading holders and processing and everything. And then when you get to roll film, well, hell, there’s twelve on a roll. So you shoot them all.
Franklin: And then now in the digital age, you’re just limited by—
Ostergaard: I’ll go out to B Reactor, you figure that’s 300 shots, easy, without even thinking about it. And you give somebody 25.
Franklin: Yeah.
Ostergaard: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: It’s a different—which is also I think a challenge for archivists moving forward is—
Ostergaard: Oh, I know.
Franklin: The amount of stuff we produce in the digital world is greater.
Ostergaard: And how much of that stuff I’ve been giving you—well, I’ll give you the raw and what I gave the customer, but then here’s the other 250 which I can’t bring myself to throw away, unfortunately. [LAUGHTER] You just never know.
Franklin: So, did your parents work for Hanford at all?
Ostergaard: Nope! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Okay, so you were the first one.
Ostergaard: Well, what happened—all my uncles and ultimately my dad, they were all in the service in World War II. This is all from Nebraska. They had had a rough time in the Depression. They’d lost the farms. They were traveling around before the war, picking fruit, doing whatever. They’d been out here before the war. My grandma’s sister was out here with—and they had her—the family farm they had was a typical chicken and eggs and fruit and alfalfa—everything, a truck farm. And so after the war, they all decided that it was time to get out of Nebraska. So in all their travels they had decided this was the good spot to go. I was born in ’46—essentially ’47, and I think they came out in ’48 and settled right when the Cold War was starting to ramp up. So there was plenty of employment. The family had always been carpenters and the like, and Dad, he had carpentry experience and working in lumberyards and stuff. It’s kind of my joke out of Caddyshack is he ended up right in the lumberyard. Of all the places you could work in here, he never made an attempt to get on at Hanford. He was working various lumberyards around and wholesale hardware and stuff like that. My other uncle did get involved in it, so. But, yeah, so that’s how it come to be. And Mom, she finally—she was secretary for First Lutheran Church. And again there, you’ve probably picked up, there was—then especially—sort of an animosity against Richland from Pasco and Kennewick.
Franklin: Can you talk about that a little bit? Because that’s—I think that’s very interesting.
Ostergaard; Well, you know, the perception was—especially because Richland was a company town at first. They were renting these places, in essence. So GE was the landlord. Everybody worked—Pasco, Kennewick, they were their own. So it’s like, well, they need a lightbulb changed, they just call somebody up and the company come change the lightbulb. Just all that kind of stuff. Locally, I totally, growing up in Kennewick, benefited from Hanford bigtime. Because a lot of Hanford—specially the doctor level and stuff, they didn’t live in Richland. They lived in Kennewick and Pasco, and they wanted their kids as well educated as the kids in Richland. So there the push was, boy, you have good schools in the Tri-Cities. That was just the accepted thing. So a lot of my contemporaries then, their fathers worked out here. So there was just a different set of expectations that went along with all that.
Franklin: So that kind of—the middle-class and upper-middle-class affluence sort of Richland--
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah, it spilled over. Big time. But I benefited totally from that environment and just those expectations: you were going to go to college, you were going to do this, you were going to— [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: But so you’re saying there was maybe some resentment that GE and the government took care of people in Richland—
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah way past—
Franklin: And there was this idea that they were freeloading or something—
Ostergaard: Yeah, and that was just probably a jealousy or something. Dad, he worked in the lumberyard in Pasco. And in summer, he’d have to come up and help fill-in—there was a lumberyard up here on Van Giesen. Where Boehm’s Chocolate is—or was. There was a lumberyard in there at one point. So he hated to come up here. He said, they expect so damn much and they don’t want to pay for anything. He called them smashers—for atom smashers.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Ostergaard: Damn smashers! God, I hate them! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: That’s really—I’ve not heard that before.
Ostergaard: Well, that was his term.
Franklin: Right, I like that.
Ostergaard: And of course at that time, Richland had a really, really good basketball team. Art Dawald was the coach in that era. So there was a—boy, that was kind of the high school sports thing. And then Pasco and Kennewick had a giant rivalry in football. And that game was the only day game they played, and that was always on Veteran’s Day. That was a big deal, big time.
Franklin: Can you describe growing up in the Tri-Cities in the Cold War and how—being so close to Hanford, but living in Kennewick or Pasco, was there any kind of fear that Hanford would have been a prime target if the war were ever fought?
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah, we were totally afraid of the Russians. [LAUGHTER] There was not necessarily anything nasty out there, it was more the Russians. We had, probably not as intense as Richland with the duck-and-cover stuff. I don’t think we were ever scrambling under desks or anything. We didn’t have any air raid sirens; I know Richland did. They brought those things in from World War II and set them up around town here. So we had our instructions. And I know one time—I wish I had one of these things. They were flying around in airplanes one time throwing out little pamphlets to—What Should You Do—
Franklin: Like civil defense pamphlets?
Ostergaard: Yeah, right, yeah! It was just—
Franklin: That’s an odd way to distribute that.
Ostergaard: God, I know it. But I wish to hell I had one! Because I found one stuck in a tree. But, no, and unfortunately, it was hyped up enough at home—lived in a wood frame house. And in the night the wind would get to blowing and banging against the house and stuff. And there were several times I convinced myself that it was a bomb going off. It was serious stuff. You were totally into it.
Franklin: Was there ever any worry that you knew in the communities—Kennewick, Pasco—of the environmental aspect of Hanford—
Ostergaard: No.
Franklin: Or any kind of—
Ostergaard: No. That just wasn’t happening yet.
Franklin: Okay. Even though—I mean, because the Green Run was in 1940—
Ostergaard: I mean, nobody knew of that until—not even heard of it until probably 20 years after it happened when the Down Winders got going. Yeah, I’ve sat there thinking about 1954, November. Where the hell was I that day? The wind was coming out of—so you start thinking about it then. But, yeah, like I say, for me, I was kind of proud of the place. I still am. Of what had happened and everything. So I’ve benefitted—[inaudible] but have benefitted greatly from the whole business. We had one couple of Christmases ago, the family got together. And my brother, he’s working sheet metal contract out there—foreman for that. And his two sons, they were working down at Hermiston in getting rid of the mustard nerve gas and stuff.
Franklin: Oh, right.
Ostergaard: And I going, damn, World War II’s still been good to this family. We’re still working because of it. [LAUGHTER] Which is, you know, true!
Franklin: Yeah, yeah, there’s legacy aspects of weapons production.
Ostergaard; Totally. And of course back then the science thing was big. I remember in 1957, the International Geophysical Year and all this stuff we got handed at school. It was something to be—technology was just to be treasured. In this environment especially.
Franklin: What are some of your memories of any—some of the major events in the Tri-Cities? Like did you go to any Atomic Frontier Days parades? Or did you—what about Kennedy’s visit or Nixon’s visit?
Ostergaard: Okay, well, let’s see, Atomic Frontier Days—that was still when Richland was—we didn’t go to Richland. That was, no, we don’t go to Richland. [LAUGHTER] We were much more Kennewick and Pasco oriented on that. I missed the Nixon visit because I was in the service. And the Kennedy visit was ’62, ’63?
Franklin: ’63.
Ostergaard: That one, Jesus. I was probably—well, I was 16. I just wasn’t conscious of it at that point. It just wasn’t something you did. I do remember they had Eisenhower come out in ’54 to dedicate McNary Dam. And they ran school buses—loads of kids—down to see it. My folks wouldn’t let me go because they didn’t like him. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Were your folks Democrats?
Ostergaard: Yeah.
Franklin: Okay.
Ostergaard: [LAUGHTER] Oh, hardcore. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: But like FDR era, Progressive New Deal-era Democrats or--?
Ostergaard: Yeah, kind of. They were just like—[HISS] Republican. So there was that type of thing going on. I became aware of—fortunately, in high school, I had some very good instructors who made us politically aware. And so I knew all about Magnusson and Jackson and how all that works. The more I find out, the more interesting that gets. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Yeah. Could you describe the ways in which security or secrecy at Hanford has impacted your work?
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah. Well, that’s just what you did. It was just an expectation. You go out there and here’s all these guards and all this stuff. You just played the game. I’d never considered it, necessarily, a burden. It was tedious and ponderous at times, but you just—you do what they say. They make the rules, they can change the rules, they can enforce the rules or not enforce the rules. You’re powerless, so you just go along. It’s real simple. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: What would you like future generations to know about working at Hanford during the Cold War and then afterward? Or just your kind of experience at Hanford?
Ostergaard: Well, first thing I’ve kind of learned is you can’t judge anything from the past in light of how you judge things today. That is the most—people kind of, especially Pearl Harbor and the activities around then—we were sort of caught flatfooted. And then some of the things that went on—internment camps and things like that. It’s just like, you got to go—okay, we didn’t know what the heck was going on. We didn’t know if they were going to land in Portland the next day or something. And so you react. And some of those reactions weren’t the best in the world. But you can’t end up—of that. And then the same thing with the environmental stuff out there. You can’t call any of those folks dumb or not caring, because all the stuff I’ve seen and all the images and stuff, everybody was doing the best of their ability with what they had. And so there wasn’t any just slipshod, they-don’t-care—except maybe the Green Run or something, but—[LAUGHTER] But you kind of look at some of that as an overzealous—because, again, it’s all driven by fear, or unknowns. Just for that not to be forgotten. And also that those people were as smart or probably smarter than we are, I think, as far as thinking things through and making do. Because that’s always been my contention with the construction camp and everything. You have those ’43, ‘44, ’45—they didn’t—if you were draft age, you weren’t there unless you had some real specialty. They recruited out of the southeast. And they didn’t want to recruit workers from the industrial—shipbuilding and all that, take those away. So they were down in the south where there was workers available. And all these people had just survived the Depression. And they knew how to make do. And they came up here and continued to make do. So that’s kind of my thing, is just that whole—and it’s unfortunate that such a great amount of energy and everything was expended on something that had such a nasty result. But—[LAUGHTER]—it’s just—
Franklin: What about later in the Cold War though? The ‘50s through the late ‘80s, and kind of that mass of—because a lot of conversations about Hanford, there’s the World War II Hanford, but then there’s the larger, much larger mission but with not such a dramatic conclusion to it, right? The Cold War kind of made 20,000 nuclear weapons around and then just kind of fizzled out.
Ostergaard: Yeah, the Cold War ramp-up thing was like—I just caught probably the tail end of that. But kind of—I got wandering here a little bit—but I always think it’s just so cool to be part of this process where all these things were happening. And being somewhat of an insider of it, I have a whole different perspective of things. If you say radiation, I go, well, okay, what kind and how much. Not, radiation?! Now, I’d be that way with nerve gas from Umatilla—which way do I run? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Nerve gas is nerve gas no matter which way you look at it.
Ostergaard: That’s right! So I have just always been kind of a—had a little better understanding of what was going on and realized there are phenomenal risks still out there. And when you’re working with guys who, in the day we were doing in-tank waste tank inspections by putting a Hasselblad on a rig, shooting argon on the lens to keep it clean, button this thing up in plastic, and dropping it down a riser and rotating the camera, shooting pictures with a strobe inside to see the tank walls.
Franklin: Wow.
Ostergaard: Now they do it digital.
Franklin: Yeah.
Ostergaard: So that was some of our specialists who just—that’s what they did. And I got involved in—always in the after thing of all that stuff. I would be handling the film and processing things.
Franklin: Was that done for all of the tanks?
Ostergaard: Oh, god, yeah. I did--
Franklin: That’s such a laborious—
Ostergaard: Oh, totally.
Franklin: I mean, that’s necessary work, but that’s such a laborious technical process to go through that.
Ostergaard: Oh, yeah. I went through—for an outside contractor, went through and basically did all the single shell tanks that we could find. Everything I could find on each one of them. Of course that stuff was in essence obsolete now because of age and whatever. Yeah, it was fascinating stuff because it was just so scary—or so potentially bad. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Yeah.
Ostergaard: Yeah, that was just a really—just in technical—I want to throw in a little pitch. The environmental stuff for the photo lab, we—back when I first came there, pretty much everything went down the drain. And again, it’s photo chemicals. And then in—when was it? When the Hunt Brothers kind of tried to corner the silver market there for a while, our boss, Les Michael—we had massive amounts of fixer we were generating. So he, on his own initiative, started reclaiming silver. We had a whole setup out there. We used an electrolytic process. So we were kind of ahead of that curve by our own doing. We were actually scraping—you know, we were doing the whole thing. And then as it got tighter and tighter, we started doing whatever is deemed proper at the time. So we had that running pretty tight. There was one time we—the state—we were actually functioning like a photo lab like you’d see in Seattle or Portland or anywhere else. Pretty much doing the same rules, because it’s just all the same stuff. They had some state inspector come in, and they were—since we were Hanford, we were kind of targeted, I think. We ultimately, one time, ran parallel processes on all the waste streams coming out of our processes, running typical batches of film. The state people brought in their sets of jugs and stuff to collect. And since the Hanford people didn’t quite trust and vice versa, they were doing a double set. And then they sent this stuff off, spent horrific amounts of money that proved we were doing everything right. [LAUGHTER] We weren’t really getting pats on the head. Everybody was just glad it was over. Whoops. So, we were doing a good job.
Franklin: Cool.
Ostergaard: And the cool thing about that, too, is our negatives are still hanging in there really well as far as process. I’ve had that question before: well, aren’t your negatives getting old? And blah, blah, blah, blah. Some lady from somewhere back east, one time, and I was very nice about it. But I said, well, no, our negatives are wonderful. They’re not fading. They’re not, because one, we had the budget and everything to do everything correctly. So everything was thoroughly washed, thoroughly fixed, everything. And also they’ve all been stored in human conditions. They haven’t been in a CONEX box or anything. They’re out where people are. And we’re in a desert; there’s no humidity. Everything--
Franklin: Yeah, that’s really good for long-term.
Ostergaard: Yeah, so everything’s fine. We do have—I think they got them out now—I went through and did a study on nitrate-based negatives. And I found you do all your work and mostly early ‘50s and mostly it was Ansco and it may be a few DuPonts and stuff. I found about 1,100. And you could just—in a storage box—you could just open the box up and sniff and tell. Oh, there’s something in here. So I went ahead and kind of made the guys—I think they pulled them out eventually. But that nitrate thing, especially at the Hanford environment, what do you do with them? Fortunately they’re scattered all over the place so there’s not a critical mass of them. And what the archive folks were doing with them is they were pulling them out and freezing them. But here, if you have a whole freezer full of nitrate negatives, you’ve created a waste. So it’s a double-edged sword. [LAUGHTER] But we had our share of 90-day storage pads and saving film to recycle and the yearly contract and we had our ion exchange column. We were doing everything. It was good.
Franklin: That’s good. Is there anything that I haven’t asked you about that you’d like to talk about or mention?
Ostergaard: Oh, I’m sure there will be 20 things the minute I walk out the door.
Franklin: Well, thank you so much, Dan, I really appreciate it. It’s really illuminating to hear you—to get some of that information on the photos and your perspective on Hanford, having not only worked there but also having seen so much of the history from the photo side.
Ostergaard: Yeah, great. Well, like I say, I didn’t want it to end. I was just having way too much fun.
Franklin: Yeah, I bet.
Ostergaard: And it was, the more—like you—the more time you invest and the more time goes on, the more you start to make connections of things. It’s just like, wow, this is just—I’m just getting good! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Well, thank you so much.
Ostergaard: Okay, all righty.
Franklin: All right.
Ostergaard: Great.
View interview on Youtube.
Robert Franklin: And do you like to go by Robert or by Bob?
Robert Parr: Bob.
Franklin: Okay—
Parr: If I get going too far, Robert is usually a buzzword that causes me to refocus.
Franklin: Okay. We will have to put out your full legal name when we introduce you.
Parr: Okay.
Franklin: But then I’ll refer to you as Bob from then on.
Parr: Yeah, okay.
Franklin: Okay, you ready Victor?
Victor Vargas: Yeah.
Franklin: Okay. My name is Robert Franklin. I’m conducting an oral history interview with Robert James Parr on November 17th, 2016. The interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. I will be talking with Bob about his experiences working at the Hanford Site. And for the record, can you state and spell your name?
Parr: My last name is spelled Parr, P-A-R-R. My first name is Robert, R-O-B-E-R-T. My middle name is James, J-A-M-E-S.
Franklin: Great, thank you. Thanks, Bob. So tell me how and why you came to the area to work at Hanford.
Parr: I graduated from WSU itself in 1973 with a degree in police science and administration.
Franklin: In Pullman.
Parr: Pullman, the big campus. And after I graduated, I went into work into law enforcement. I ended up in the late ‘70s working for the State of Washington State Liquor Control Board, long before cannabis, as an enforcement officer. It was a good agency, both regulatory and criminal enforcement. So it was—no day was the same. But when I looked at it, the pay and benefits weren’t what I thought they would be. And then I noticed—I saw an ad in I believe it was either the Seattle Times or Seattle Post Intelligencer that Atlantic Richfield Hanford—ARCO—was looking for people to work for them in their uniformed security group called the Hanford Patrol. So I checked it out, and I found out that their pay was much better than I was working for the state. So I went and interviewed with them at a hotel—I think it was the Doubletree, or is the Doubletree now at Southcenter in Renton, Washington. So I did the interview, and I noticed that everyone else being interviewed, we were all ex-military or law enforcement. So I took the interview, and then they offered me a job. I had previously applied with ARCO, and of course at that time the transition occurred, so it was now Rockwell Hanford. So they offered me a job starting in—I interviewed, I think, sometime in the December timeframe, and then right after New Year’s they offered me a job starting to work in February 1980. So I was married at the time, so we moved over to Tri-Cities, got an apartment, and I had done my physical and all the screening before. And then I started to work for Rockwell Hanford in February of 1980. My initial employment—my initial job was with Hanford Patrol. So, they had their own—they called it an academy, and it was at what is the 1100 Area, which used to be—one of the activities we did at the 1100 Area was the bus lot. Because we had buses onsite. So at the office where the buses were dispatched from, about the back third of it was the Hanford Patrol Training Academy. It wasn’t much, but that’s where I went to work, and initial training was about seven weeks. While I was there, I received my—I already had had a clearance from the Department of Energy—security clearance. So my security clearance showed up, and since I had a security clearance—many of my peers in this class—there were about 20 or 30 of us—didn’t have clearances, so they were work approvals, what we called WAs. But I had my Q security clearance, so I went right to work. My first assignment was in 200-West, 200-East, and 100-N. So I worked out at the north end of the site for a couple months. And then I got reassigned to 300 Area, which was a composite area of—we did fuels production and research there. So it was the contractors—we had Rockwell providing security and fire services and transportation. United Nuclear was operating fuels production for the N Reactor at the north end of 300 Area. We also had Northwest National Labs, Battelle Memorial who was operating in there; they had several facilities. And then Westinghouse Hanford was doing fuel production and research for the Fast Flux Test Facility, which wasn’t online yet, but almost was nearing completion. So I did that for—I was there for quite some time. And then about less than six months after I showed up, I got promoted. The Hanford Project, the uniformed security and protection onsite hadn’t really adjusted to changing times in society there. They issued us revolvers, and that was when revolvers were starting to be phased out. Automatics, or a more modern sidearm, was being issued. So the big change in technology was their alarm systems. Westinghouse Hanford had led the way. They actually wrote the software. We were using computer-operated security system at 300 and 400 Areas, 400 being Fast Flux Test Facility. So I got to get in on the ground floor of that. I participated in the acceptance test process for both 300 and 400 Areas. We brought the system online. It was state of the art. Westinghouse had gone out and found the best equipment and the best systems, and then wrote their own software for the system. So it was much beyond the old analog systems we used to have onsite. Many of the alarm systems at that point, particularly ones at the Plutonium Finishing Plant were technology from the ‘50s and were probably installed in the ‘60s. And here it was the ‘80s—and the mid-‘80s by now. So we did that, and eventually Rockwell, they also put in a similar system at Plutonium Finishing Plant. But they had a problem: the people that they hired to write their software were two guys in a garage. And it didn’t go well. God bless them for trying, but it didn’t go well. So they ended up buying the Westinghouse software and then they had their software people come in and make some adjustments to it based on their equipment. So they were similar systems. So I got qualified to operate all of them, and shortly thereafter I got promoted again. So now, instead of being a supervisor in an alarm facility on a rotating basis, I was now the coordinator responsible for all four rotating shifts, first at 300 Area and eventually at Fast Flux Test Facility. So I did that until 1993. During that time, Department of Energy was also ramping up its efforts on security, trying to be a little more professional and coming into a more modern era. So they had developed a central training academy down at DOE Albuquerque, at that field office. So they came up to Hanford, and they had developed a training program to teach supervisors on security forces how to train their employees. So I took it, and that worked good. But I was also—when I first moved to Tri-Cities I was on Coast Guard Reserve and I drilled at Station Kennewick, a small search and rescue. It’s the navigation station. So I drilled there, but the Coast Guard started downsizing in the Reagan administration. So I shifted over to the Army National Guard, and shortly after I joined the National Guard, they sent me to a school to learn how to be what the Army called an instructor. So all of the sudden I had two pieces of paper—one from the Department of Energy and one from the Army—saying I was an instructor. Well, in 1993 I was offered a job at Plutonium Finishing Plant with the training department. So in the fall of ’93, I left Safeguard and Security, the Hanford Patrol, and went to work at Plutonium Finishing Plant as a—you could call it instructor, but the official job title was Training Specialist. And then they went through several changes, so I think I’ve been a technical instructor, I’ve been a senior training specialist, and so four or five different job title changes; same job. At Plutonium Finishing Plant, they hadn’t quite—they had a vacancy, so they put me in it, and initially my manager’s idea was, well, you can assist someone on a key training project. So I got assigned as the second instructor on several training projects. And then one day, he walked in—the manager walked in, and he was looking for one of the employees that I was paired up with on one of the projects. And he said, well, where is he? And I said, I don’t know. He said, well, are you running that class today? And I go, what class? Because my peer and I hadn’t even talked about it. So next thing I know, I was now the person responsible or person-in-charge at Plutonium Finishing Plant. And it was a program we set up in response to a finding: when you have an event in those days, they would investigate it and then they would figure out what the corrective actions would be. So the finding, the corrective action, was that we would start a training program at Plutonium Finishing Plant for person-in-charge. So we mirrored it after a similar program at FFTF. And next thing I know, I’m running a training program, and we’re putting all the supervisors—the workforce supervisors in the plant are going through it so they can learn how to perform work at the plant. Almost all our work at the plant was done in either procedures or work package. Work packages were usually maintenance- or construction-related. So I got to be the—my title soon became the PIC-meister. Because not only did I have to coordinate their training, but I also had to develop their certification and qualification. So I did that much of the time I was there. And then other programs started going my way. I also ended up teaching Safety Basis. Because at a DOE facility, it’s somewhat similar to the Nuclear Regulatory Commission-regulated facility, an operating commercial reactor. But their idea is that the Safety Basis is those documents, those commitments that have been made on how the plant can be operated. In other words, to a non-commercial DOE facility, it’s your operating license. So every time we proposed an activity, we had to look—or sometimes even a construction or maintenance package, we had to ensure it was within the Safety Basis. So I ended up teaching that course. So pretty soon my work focus seemed to be emergent training. Anything we had an event or an incident, where training was needed the day before yesterday, it ended up on my plate. So that’s what I did. By that time I was in the Army National Guard, and then after 9/11 happened, the 27th of September that year, I got a phone call at work telling me to come in. So I cleared work as fast as I could, came home. My eldest daughter was living with me. She fixed a boxed lunch for me, and I got in the car and I started driving towards Fort Lewis. And that first time I was gone sixteen months. Then I was home and I left again for a year-and-a-half. Went to Iraq twice. And then I came back, and in between that, there was all kinds of little three- to four-week taskings from the Army. And then in 2008, I left for four months, and came back for three months, and then I left in—January 2010, I got a phone call, and the phone call was, Sergeant Major, are you going to be on the plane tomorrow? I go, what plane? Well, you’re flying to Afghanistan tomorrow. Well, thanks, could you send me a set of orders? So they faxed a set of orders, and I walked up to my manager and said, I’ve got to leave. And that was about 9:00 in the morning, and by—before 11:00 I was turning in all my keys, my security badge and everything, and I was leaving. And then I didn’t come home for two years. And I came back, and by that time, President Obama was President of the United States. He used stimulus money to many federal agencies. And the Department of Energy took it, but their approach was a little bit different. While in the Army, we used some of it, but we hired companies to come in to do work for the Department of Defense. Whereas DOE used the approach of having their contractors hire more employees. So I came back and the stimulus money was running out and they were overstaffed. So the next—they offered a voluntary reduction of force, a layoff, early retirement. So I asked my management what my retirement’s worth. And they—so I drove down to, I think it was Stevens Center, not far from WSU Tri-Cities. And I walked in and they went over my retirement with me, and god bless them, they gave me credit for time served. Not like a jail sentence, but my time on active duty with the National Guard. So I raised my right hand and said, I’ll take it. And I left, and my last day was the end of September in 2011. And I had four years of great veteran’s benefits through the VA bill. So I took my veterans benefits and came back to WSU Tri-Cities this time. No athletic eligibility so the university couldn’t screw with me much. And I got another degree.
Franklin: And what’s your degree, what was that degree in?
Parr: The second degree is a Bachelor of Arts in Social Science. So I got to take all those cool classes that—the first time around, I declared my major the first year. And in the early ‘70s, once you declared your major, your goose was cooked, you took what they told you. They offered you a very narrow pathway. So the second time around I got to take fun things like economics and lots of psychology and some English courses. A lot of history. So I think I developed into a better-educated, much broader person.
Franklin: That’s really fascinating.
Parr: Yeah.
Franklin: Good to see someone come in the social sciences, too, as a historian. So I see here on some of the notes Emma had written up that your father worked at Hanford as well?
Parr: My father was an Army officer. Hanford started out as an Army project. Corps of Engineers and the DuPont Corporation, which was quite a corporation back in the day. It still is. But they did a lot of work for the government in the ordnance field. And the Navy used the approach—because the Navy was heavily involved—not heavily—but involved in the Manhattan Project, and they were doing some of the uranium research. So the Navy ran it through their Ordnance Corps. The Army ran it through the Corps of Engineers, but the Corps of Engineers didn’t have all the resources. So one of the things was, because at the time Hanford was believed to be a viable target in the event of total war. So initially we sided—my father was Coast Artillery which later became Antiaircraft Artillery. So my father was one of the officers that was detailed here temporarily to site the guns. And they did some site work, and eventually that siting work, when they put one of the Nike systems—the missiles, to ring the Hanford Site and I believe around Fairchild Air Force Base in Spokane. Some of the siting work that they had done in the ‘40s was used to site the missiles when, I believe, they were being placed in the ‘50s. So my dad was here temporarily. He was one of a lot—a lot of Army personnel came and went. I think people get the—we even had MPs here. We of course had antiaircraft artillery which later became air defense. So for many years there was a heavy Army presence here. It wasn’t totally—it wasn’t like you’d see an Army uniform everywhere, but Colonel Matthias was the commanding officer. And a very unique approach, because his approach was that—and Dad told me about it—his approach was that he was the commanding officer, and he was responsible. Later, when I came back to work here, I didn’t see that same attitude with the Department of Energy. Because one of the things I noticed is—I worked for a lot of contractors. First started looking at ARCO, then it was—when I came here it was Rockwell Hanford, then it was Westinghouse Hanford, then it was Babcock & Wilcox, which a lot of people think of them as the maritime boiler company, but they’re also heavy into the nuclear business. A great company to work for. They were only here for a year. And then it was with Fluor. Then eventually when they broke up all the little contracts, I worked for a company called NREP, which was the training contractor—one of the training contractors onsite. And then eventually after I left, after I retired, NREP went away and they consolidated back. One of the things that I noticed about DOE is a contractor will be—of course they don’t screw with Battelle. It’s hard to screw with those guys because they do great work for a lot of different things, and they’re on the cutting edge of so many different technologies and they’re so important to our national wellbeing. But DOE would start beating up on the contractors. So you know that contractor’s probably going to be on its way out. And Department of Energy over the years—god bless them. They’re great Americans. But they can’t seem to make up their mind how they’re going to run. Sometimes it’s—when I first came here it was five or six principal contractors, and then they went to one big contractor, and then they broke it down again, and then they subcontracted out a lot of work, and then now they’re bringing it back.
Franklin: Do you think that has to do with the fact that DOE—higher-ups in DOE are subject to political appointments?
Parr: Not only the political appointments but also the budget process. But I don’t see that constant shifting—you see it in other federal agencies, cabinet-level agencies, but not the extent that DOE does it. It’s almost like, well, we can’t do it. And then oftentimes, I’ve known—I think one of the things that’s responsible for a lot of—for some of the problems—we didn’t have a lot of problems—but some of the events we had out at Hanford were directly related to the field office, Department of Energy Richland. They’re great people and everything, but sometimes I think the guidance they gave, and oftentimes the funding for the program was stopped at the end of the fiscal year, we were told, don’t spend any more money on it, leave it as-is, do something else. Well, that’s kind of what happened at the PRF explosion. But it wasn’t DOE—it wasn’t the field office’s fault? Strange.
Franklin: Can you talk a bit more about that event? That was in ’97?
Parr: Mm-hm.
Franklin: And you were working at PFP—
Parr: I was in a training group. It occurred on a weekend. So got to work, and you could actually see the—some of the—you had to know what to look for, but you could see the external damage to the facility. And of course, I had been involved in training the shift supervisor. I was at his oral board when he qualified as shift supervisor, because I supported oral—one of the things I got assigned with was supporting the oral boards. So I was at his oral board, and I’d known him for several years, and I thought he was probably one of our better shift supervisors at Plutonium Finishing Plant. But I had—I noticed, as we did it, and then they came looking for the training packages, well, we never—we did initial training on operating of PRF, but it got stopped, they withdrew the money from it. So I don’t even know where the training packages were. But they were concerned—and I noticed that our emergency response to the event was flawed. We didn’t respond well. We hadn’t trained on it, and we hadn’t really devoted a lot of time and effort to emergency preparedness. It hadn’t been a focus. So I got involved in the corrective action. I ended up teaching. We now instituted a drill program at the plant. So I got involved in the drill training program. In other words, how to train people that are working the drills. Many of us were ex-military, so we understood how to run a drill. No big thing. But we had a formal training program. I ended up adding some material to the PIC training program. So there were a lot of corrective actions, and eventually we demonstrated readiness to go back to work. But the issue still was we were told to stop working at PRF. So it just—and we didn’t really devote—we should have devoted time—we should have had the resources to look back at that and figure out what the hazards were that were still remaining in PRF. But we were told not to spend any more money on it. So when it’s the end of the fiscal year and you’ve got no Costco to charge activities to, you don’t work.
Franklin: Our project’s grant funded.
Parr: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: We’re a subcontractor, so I understand. Can you talk a bit about—so you would have been at Hanford during that—and I think on patrol during that transition period when the Cold War ended and when production wrapped up and we shifted into this new phase. I wonder if you could talk about that transition.
Parr: Well, the big transition initially was—and the one was much harder to discern—was the transition from the Carter administration to the Reagan administration. All of the sudden—it was much easier to see in the National Guard, because all of the sudden, new equipment started showing up and you started getting money to train with and send soldiers to schools. But here at Hanford we started getting new equipment. That’s when we—security had pretty much done—we’d upgraded all our alarm systems. But then we started getting money for communication systems, Hanford Patrol’s initial entry training started changing. And I noticed it elsewhere onsite, because we went from kind of a standby mode as far as defense work then, to actively producing material. Really significant change. And that went on for several years. As the Reagan administration ended and we went into President Bush’s administration, the level of effort kind of reached its maximum, as far as funding for defense work. And then I remember when the wall came down, we kind of backed off defense work. And then, okay, stop that, we’ve got enough plutonium. We closed down PUREX. FFTF was going away because they decided that that type of reactor wasn’t going to be it, even though we had received funding from the Japanese to do work. And they couldn’t find research work for FFTF, so they started shutting it down. Even though it was, at the time, it was probably the most modern reactor the Department of Energy had. But we had never, never gone to the idea of making a dual-purpose reactor and producing power. We’d done the engineering studies for it, we’d done some of the preliminary design work, but we never installed them.
Franklin: I thought N Reactor was.
Parr: N Reactor was, but we were going to do that to FFTF. So we’d actually—there was actually a piece of ground at the Fast Flux Test Facility where they were going to do that. And the engineering and preliminary design work had been done. So we kind of shifted from that, and it’s as if we were struggling for a national energy policy—where are we going to go?
Franklin: Interesting.
Parr: So we kind of—and the N Reactor—when Chernobyl went, the N Reactor, I believe, was in a fueling outage—its annual outage. So then we began to look at the fact that the N Reactor was a unique reactor. Very effective, very economical to run. Washington Public Power Supply System had built their generation plant next to it. But the political—Chernobyl caused a lot of—well, obviously, it was a severe blow to the Soviet Union. And the Ukrainian people are still having to deal with it. But the ramifications and fallout from any event in an industry, and nuclear’s probably one of the more visible ones, causes a ripple effect elsewhere. And our ripple effect was we never—we did the engineering analysis, but I think the political outcry was a little bit too much to reopen—or resume production at the N Reactor. Then also we really didn’t need any more plutonium; we had sufficient for national defense. So it kind of became the issue. There’s a lot of politics. So let’s go into that for a minute. Let’s talk red and blue states. Red being the party—a red is a Republican state; a blue state being a Democratic state. We are a blue state. Both US Senators come from the other side of the mountains. In this area we have one voice in Congress that speaks for us, the local congressman. So when even Spokane, which is Republican, too, when it begins to turn against this industry and this area, then politically it becomes no longer viable. Then of course we had—the congressional delegation from Oregon was speaking out against it. So it becomes politically unviable.
Franklin: Right, right. It was kind of—Chernobyl kind of kicked off like a perfect storm to just kind of hurt the nuclear industry and Hanford.
Parr: And then—I believe it was 2000—there was an event in Japan, a criticality at a production facility. And that also caused a wave of consternation. Although it was interesting, because one of the subjects I instructed at PFP was criticality safety. And we were very diligent about it. We did refresher—everyone got a—you got your initial site training and then because you worked at PFP, we had a PFP specific class talking about the risks we had for criticality safety. And then we had an annual refresher course. So we looked at what was going on in the industry, using the lessons learned, and some of the changes in process we were doing to plan. It was usually a one- to two-hour refresher class every year. So we looked at all that. But when the Japanese had their event it was kind of interesting. Some of the experts—or the people I depended on to give me advice on what to put in the training event—were criticality safety experts from Northwest National Labs. And all of a sudden, I’m calling someone—well, he’s not here. Well, where is he? Well, he’s in Japan. Then I realized, okay. So, some of our top people in our industry from right here at Hanford went over to deal with the issue.
Franklin: Interesting. You worked for a lot of different contractors. That’s always kind of a—it’s interesting to me how, you know, because we say Hanford Site, but that really obscures the organization of the site and the work. I’m just wondering if you could talk a bit more about that—shifting between contractors like that, and how that affected the mission of the site, how that might have affected employee morale, and how it kind of affected you personally.
Parr: Well, I think that the big transition—because I got here after Rockwell had come in. So I’m working for Site Safeguard and Security. And I get my paycheck from Rockwell. But I work at 300 Area, which in those days—United Nuclear was about 10 to 15% of the puzzle. Because I knew—I saw what our funding was for security services coming from. But most of it came from Westinghouse Hanford, Northwest National Labs, Battelle Memorial. And I noticed that, working with their security staffs from all four companies, that they were very—Northwest National Labs was very, very different. The people they had working their security programs were security professionals. They were very much into assets protection. Not only people, but information and also property. So assets protection was very big for them. One of the things that I—the first thing that struck me was when I went to work at 300 Area, they’ve got a book—a three-ring binder—and it’s got every one of their facilities with a floorplan and a description of what’s there, is there any special nuclear material there, are there any classified document storage areas? You know, what is the security force protecting? Incredible. No one else had one. Westinghouse was pretty much on the same level. Very much an administrative security. Had great programs. If you needed—if something unusual happened and you needed their management’s approval on it to get it, you were talking on the phone with those people and usually within three to five minutes, they’d be calling you. Incredible. They had a different mindset. They were building FFTF at the time, and they were very much—their corporate and company philosophy was very much on operating reactors. Because they built reactors, they built reactor vessels themselves, so they were very much into that commercial power production. They were a large government contractor, not only for DOE but other agencies. They did a lot of defense work. They did a lot of work for other federal agencies: Department of Treasury, Department of the Interior, Department of Justice. So there was a big mindset of meeting the customer’s needs. Westinghouse was very employee oriented. Of course they were only about 1,500 employees, whereas Rockwell was several thousand more. So it was very interesting working for Rockwell but being in a Westinghouse Battelle UNC facility. So I kind of—we kind of felt like orphans. It’s like—no, I’m very serious. Each one of the contractors had their own company newspaper. So, Rockwell, we’d get it two or three days later. Westinghouse, the day it was published, it was brought by our building, too. Even though everyone that worked in that building except for the janitor—the custodial staff—was a Rockwell employee, Westinghouse delivered it. They reached out to us. And then when they ran the big—at that time, and that’s when DOE field office went to one big contractor—of course Battelle had their own thing. So that didn’t change. But all of the sudden, it’s like the management of my own group was very—they worked in a Rockwell facility at the north end of the site. They weren’t too happy. But we didn’t have any problems making the transition, but they did. There was a lot of turmoil—not a lot, but a significant amount of turmoil in the north end of the site, particularly in Safeguard and Security, because all of the sudden Westinghouse had a successful program and they went out there and they weren’t impressed by some of the programs they found.
Franklin: So that’s the reason, then, for some of that turmoil or hard feelings?
Parr: Oh, yeah. Westinghouse, you didn’t want to lose control of special nuclear material. That’s really a bad thing. And Westinghouse’s standard, how they did their administrative program and their controls, was much more developed, much more thorough. So when they moved in—so now they’re taking over Plutonium Finishing Plant, which had a large amount of plutonium back in the days. They weren’t—it was kind of a shock to Westinghouse. Oh, we’ve got all this—before it was just fuel components. Now they’ve got weapons grade material that’s designed for ultimate defense work—the end use being defense work. So there was a little turmoil there, but then in about six months it all kind of evaporated. And then employees were actually sad when Westinghouse left. Because Westinghouse was much more attuned to employee communication, employee benefits. Rockwell—it was kind of interesting. I remember one time I had to go to east. This is where Rockwell Hanford’s corporate office was. I go out there and I’m walking around and I look, and in all these offices—even in cubicles—because there was some offices, but there was also cubicle land. You’d walk out and you’d see pictures of the B-1 Bomber which was a Rockwell aircraft, when Rockwell still made aircraft. And I’m looking around, and down at Westinghouse, everyone was an ex-Navy nuke or ex-commercial power nuke. But out at Rockwell, they were all refugees from when the B-1 program got canceled, so Rockwell moved all these engineers out here. So it was a very different mindset: the aviation versus naval nuclear and the commercial nuclear industry.
Franklin: Interesting. So you said Rockwell was the aviation.
Parr: Yeah, North American Rockwell, the old aviation company. Probably the most famous aircraft that—I’m sure that they made other ones—but the one that comes to mind is the P-51 Mustang. That was their biggie.
Franklin: You’ve mentioned of the older security systems that were still in place in the 80s and you said analog. Can you give me an example of an analog security system?
Parr: Well, it was a system where the point of where the actual, shall we say, sensor, whether it’s a magnetic or whatever, when contact is broken it sends—you lose connectivity, so it would send a signal and it would—the little mechanical panel would go red and make an audible tone and go red. So kind of a dated technology, whereas--
Franklin: How would you track that from a central area?
Parr: Well, it’d be hardwired, usually to a facility that would be nearby.
Franklin: Okay.
Parr: At PFP, the alarm facility—the central alarm facility was a little wooden building—no, I’m serious—
Franklin: I believe you.
Parr: --that was near the main entry point into the plant.
Franklin: Okay.
Parr: But a more modern system would—you could actually, you’d get—the signal would—you could actually query the signal to see the strength of signal and is it because the system—there’s a power problem? In other words, is there a problem with the system, or is it an actual alarm? So you could query it back. And there were no microwaves, there were no—they were usually—their presence detectors were very limited in capability and obviously, no cameras—or very few cameras.
Franklin: So like CCTV would have been a big introduction.
Parr: So when they did install CCTV, there was—the fuels production facility was the first one to bring it online. They actually had—you could see the entry point into the secured area, you could see the hallways, you could see the primary rooms where the primary points of value were. And then on the perimeter, they normally had fixed cameras, pan-tilt zoom, but then they also had cameras with low-light capability, with flood lights on them. So it was much—and then there was actually a perimeter fence line and security system. Although at the 300 Area it was kind of dicey, because we were retrofitting a security system into an area where there’d been none. So there was some areas you couldn’t put a double fence line, so we ended up with a single fence line, supplanted with motion detectors—microwave motion detectors. And then they also had a fence that was monitored. They called it a taut wire system, because it was a weapon that if it ever were touched—and sometimes by small animals or tumbleweed—we seem to have some of that out here at Hanford—it would go off. So you’d take a look on the camera, see what it was.
Franklin: Oh, okay, yeah I bet that would help you reduce a lot of false alarms.
Parr: One year after a fire—we seem to have fires out at—well, range fires at Hanford are not unknown. But we had one fire, and I can remember at FFTF that the debris from the fire kept plugging up our perimeter system for several days thereafter until we got a work crew in there to actually pick up the debris and partially burned pieces and the full tumbleweeds. Because the fire would generate a lot of heat in the air, so not only do you have debris from the fire itself, but you also have debris being moved by the air currents. And the way the wind was blowing off Rattlesnake Mountain.
Franklin: Did you—sorry, I’m just looking over some of my notes here, and I wanted to ask you about—oh, shoot. It says here that in the 1980s, you helped during an anti-nuclear protest at the Federal Building?
Parr: Oh, I remember that. No, I didn’t do it. I was on duty that day. And what we’d done is, in the ‘80s we had anti-nuclear protests. And we believed that one was going to be big. So Safeguard and Security and the Hanford Patrol being the uniformed service, they pulled a lot of us in to work that day, and then they took key people—and they actually had buses from Site Transportation, they were going to take care of the demonstrators. Because once they crossed onto the Federal Building property, that was DOE’s area of responsibility, no longer the city’s. So anyway, there’s about—there weren’t that many protestors, perhaps 20 or 40 at most downtown. So there were all these people, and we probably had 50 to 70 people staged and ready to go. Get the buses, put them on the buses, and take them to the federal magistrate. Then all of the sudden, there’s a call come out. There’s people without badges inside West Area at the north end of the site. And apparently—we’re down—I think I was at either—I can’t remember if I was at the 300 Area in the alarm facility or 400 Area—but I’m listening to this, and all of the sudden the frequency’s going crazy—patrol’s primary operating frequency—and then the second frequency, the tactical frequency, is getting busy too. You can hear the voices on the radio, a little bit of stress going on. And we’re all laughing like hell, because, you know, hey, that’s where the weapons-grade material is. Aren’t we protecting that? Of course, we were heretics. We’re giggling, you know. It’s funny because it’s not happening to us; it’s happening to someone else. Because we had additional staff at 300 Area and we had additional staff at FFTF because it’s an operating reactor at the time. So apparently what the demonstrators had done is they walked in from Highway 240, and West Area isn’t that far in. They’d walked in, hopped over the outer fence, a single fence line in West Area—hopped over the fence line in West Area and they’re marching towards—and of course, unless you know West Area, the big, tall, long buildings all look alike. They’ve all got stacks and water towers. You can’t tell the difference between one of the old canyon buildings—one of the old production facilities—and PFP. So, all of the sudden, they’ve got protestors in West Area, but all their resources, except for the bare minimum, are downtown. But then it gets even better. When they got the protestors, they put them on a bus, and they thought they’d just being going to the district court in Kennewick. No, took them to the federal magistrate, out of town.
Franklin: Wow.
Parr: Yeah. So, it was kind of funny. But we had gone and—the funny thing was, because of the—they actually, in those days, most of us wore tactical uniform, camouflage or whatever. But the people who were actually going to detain and transport the protestors all had to be in full uniform, you know, pants and shirt and badge. So it was one of the better events.
Franklin: I interviewed a gentleman a while back who worked at PFP who talked about when they would load the product up, and there would be very heavy security and people that almost looked like they were in black ops, or like very—I was wondering, were you ever involved in any of that or did you—
Parr: The Department of Energy had a courier program, and they were based, I think, at Albuquerque at the time. And they usually had a transport vehicle and escort vehicles. They were specially trained to protect the shipments. There’s other ways to move things, but usually once a weapon is produced, it’s turned over to the military, and their transport is their responsibility. But components—whether it’s plutonium or whatever—would usually be transported by the courier group. When they took all the material out—and that happened while I was—probably most of it was done while I was in Afghanistan. It was the same courier group. They had extremely good communications, so it’d always be known where they were, and there were contingency plans in case there was an event. And I don’t think they ever—other than a mechanical failure of a vehicle, I don’t think they ever had an event. And of course protestors were always fixated on, you know, the media was always fixated on the white train. Yeah, okay. [LAUGHTER] I’ve never seen one, but—[LAUGHTER]
Franklin: What were the most challenging and rewarding aspects of working at Hanford?
Parr: The most rewarding one was—I think the people. When I worked in training, I got to know everyone—almost everyone in the plant would come to one of our training events. Some groups needed—the higher-risk job, the more training you got. So it was working with the people. And then some people, it was just a paycheck. But the employees who took pride in their work and enjoyed their work, those were always the fun people to be with. Not that they were there for fun, but just, it was very rewarding to work with them. Now I’m retired and I still see some of them around the community. So it’s always fun to see someone that I spent—you know, worked with. I still see the vice president of the Steel Workers’ Local, because I worked—I got to work closely with him. So to see those people, and to see their successes and to do that. The difficult part, sometimes, was employees who were just there—or people who were just there for the paycheck. Or struggling through personal issues. Being able, trying to help them, or to get—a shift, a work crew doing a work package, they’re people. And the strength of any group is always at the level of the lowest performer. So the performers who were struggling, those were the tough—or the ones who were—sometimes you get cynical. People get emotional. And dealing with the cynicism. I think one of the toughest things I ever had was—I wasn’t involved in the project; I was training, but I wasn’t the trainer for that particular project, but I was doing some other training. They worked hard, they were staging the materials—I think it was the Pencil Tank Reduction at PFP. They were about to take the pencil tanks, clean them up, reduce them in size, and then shift them off to scrap. And they were making hard to get the materials to write the pre-procedures to do the job, get their training in order, and get ready to go. In the aftermath, when Department of Energy said, well, we’re not going to do that right now. But materials had already been—a considerable amount of resources had been pushed in that project to get it ready to go. But then Department of Energy said, well, no, we’re not going to do that. We’re going to take that money and we’re going to use it for something else. Planning at Hanford is always one of our toughest things. Has been for years. There’s so many things we did that—where it never came off, or things changed. Not too far from here are the bus lots at 1100 Area. And the parking lot’s at 300 Area. We spent a lot of money—or the government spent a lot of money improving those parking lots, making sure they had the good drainage and so on and so forth. Improving the bus lot and making it a much safer, much more efficient operation. And then we canceled bus service. A couple years later, I know that our local law enforcement—I think Richland Police Department—used it for a pursuit driving course, that piece of ground, and now it’s gone commercial. But all the things we do, and then all of a sudden—boom—we never realize the full value of what we had spent money on.
Franklin: You kind of—I’m sensing from that and the comment you made earlier about the lack of energy focus—maybe do you see kind of a lack of focus at Hanford or kind of surrounds some activities at Hanford?
Parr: I think when Congressman Foley—Tom Foley—was speaker of the House, and he was from—let’s see, we’re four, I think that’s 5th Congressional District, in Spokane. Speaker Foley—and this was probably about the time of the Chernobyl issue and all of that—Speaker Foley proposed, in a public statement, transitioning Hanford from Department of Energy back to Corps of Engineers. And knowing a lot of engineers, Army engineers, they’re great people and they do great things. And I looked at that, and I go, I don’t think that’s the right move. But now looking back on it, and having worked with the Corps of Engineers in both the reconstruction of Iraq, before we withdrew, and then a lot of the work—there’ve been some mistakes—a lot of mistakes in Afghanistan and Iraq. But looking at some of the work they’ve done there, I hate to admit it, but I think Tom was right. We should have switched. Because I think the Corps of Engineers is a lot more focused and a lot more planning. Because they don’t look at—oh, we’re going to—I think the Corps looks at the long-term: five, ten, fifteen, twenty years. And looks for a strategy. Whereas I see Department of Energy, particularly—and I know the field offices are all different. What I saw in DOE Albuquerque was different than DOE RL, was different than DOE Rocky Flats. I think the Department of Energy field offices, particularly Richland, focused on the near-term, not the long-term. The near-term being this fiscal year and maybe next. But I see that in working with Northwest National Labs, I noticed they were always looking at where we’re going to be in four, five years. And I think—because with the Army I got to support a couple projects. Then I was in Afghanistan. We were doing something and I needed some reach-back capability. So unofficially I reached back to Northwest National Labs to give me help with something in Afghanistan that I was encountering. And it took me a couple days to find the right person and then get him up on a secure—I’m not Hillary. So I used a secure—all my emails were in a secure system—and to reach out and get that information, so how we could be more effective in Afghanistan. So I saw that kind of work, and I see—dealing with them and watching what they’re doing, they’re looking at the—they look at, they forecast out in the future. What’s it going to be like in ten, 15, 20 years? What’s the end state? I think RL has gotten, or particularly in my time, they were in the survival mode, reacting, rather than planning. I think one of the key losses we had—we had the DOE RL manager one time was a guy by the name of Mike Lawrence. And later he left, but I noticed when he left—I think Mr. Lawrence was—he planned, he looked at things. He tried to anticipate where the federal budget was going and what the program was going to be. And I think after that, it became a more reactive group. And now I continue to watch, and I watch them—we were spending money—apparently taxpayers were spending money on upgrading the Federal Building, because they’re the primary occupant there. And then they said, no, we’re going to move our office—move our staff out to the Stevens Center Complex, which is right off—between George Washington Way and Stevens. So we’re going to move out there. So you figure, oh, okay, that’s going to cost a little money. And then what’s going to happen to the contractor employees there? Well, they’re going to just—the taxpayer owns the Federal Building, but the Stevens Center is leased facilities. So I can’t—I can’t figure that one out. God bless them, but I can’t figure it out.
Franklin: Yeah, we exist in a similar thing here at WSU. Our project is in a leased facility and it seems to be the way that—I would agree with you that that is—there’s more focus recently on our near-term solutions, especially here in Richland, but ignoring the long-term solutions. Maybe because the long-terms are scary. I don’t know. But—
Parr: You’ve got to—what do they say in the Army? Oh. Embrace the suck.
Franklin: Yeah. Is there anything we haven’t talked about that you’d like to cover?
Parr: Well, it was interesting being at Hanford Patrol initially and watching them come from a more security force that was designed just to check badges and check classified repositories and respond to alarms, become more a professional force. It was really exciting watching their training group. When I first came here, they’d get up and read a manual and that was your training. Their firearms training was superb. Best I ever had. Probably better than anything I’ve seen, even in—I would put their marksmen up against the best of the best. Whether it’s HRT and the Bureau. I definitely think they can out-shoot the Ranger, but—not criticizing the Army Rangers—but their people can out-shoot Army Rangers. And perhaps, Force Recon in the Marine Corps. I think they’re up there with the more elite organizations. And I think that firearms training was incredible. They took people who couldn’t shoot, and they teach them theory and technique and then work with them and find the faults and get them to correct it to that point. I’ve never seen anything like that in any law enforcement academy or any military training. It was incredible. But the rest of it, there was no lesson plans. Training is always analysis, design, development, implementation where you get up and teach it, and then evaluate it to see if the training took. I didn’t see that in Rockwell’s training program for the Safeguard and Security team force. But eventually to see them as, when Westinghouse took over, they started putting those standards in. And I think Department of Energy did it nationwide. So I think watching that change and transition was exciting. Was great stuff. It was an exciting place to work. And right now they’re tearing down the Plutonium Finishing Plant where I spent, what, 17, 18 years of my life—except for some trips elsewhere. But to see it come down, but then to realize what we achieved there. I was there the day a button caught fire, a plutonium button. That was exciting. Because we were testing out the security system, and—why do we have employees taking off their clothing on camera? What’s going on here? And then call up to building emergency, is something going on inside the plant you kind of should let us know about? And why is the fire department coming? And then watching it go through things, and then eventually watching the cleanup process, stabilizing plutonium, and seeing where that goes. So I’m glad I had the opportunity to come in today to talk a little bit about what it was like to work at Hanford. I remember when he had buses and then we didn’t have buses because they decided we didn’t need them anymore. And then watching the density of vehicles on the highways going up to work onsite. I can remember when they decided that—there’s a four-lane road; Stevens is a four-lane divided highway out to the Site. You know, when you’re doing remediation and you’re constructing the Vit Plant, there’s a lot of trucks and trailers with heavy loads that are in the right-hand lane. So then somebody came up with the bright idea of—and they’re slower-moving. So we’re going to have that traffic in the left-hand lane going northbound, and everyone going, they’re driving the speed limit or those going beyond the speed limit would drive in the right-hand lane. Excuse me? Really? Really. And then there was a thing where we decided to put—you know, how far it is from this place to this place. And we’re going to do it both in the English system and also in metric. Good idea, that makes sense, because a lot of the world is metric. Makes a lot of sense. So then they put the signs up, and they put—the letters are about that high in a 55-mile-and-hour zone. So how close do you have to be to read a sign that’s got letters that are about two inches high, going about 55 miles an hour? Excuse me? [LAUGHTER] And also that’s now—isn’t that kind of like a visual impediment to traffic safety?
Franklin: Yeah, seriously.
Parr: The other one is right up on Stevens in the 300 Area. You’ve got 300 Area—I can’t remember the name of the street. It comes out and goes onto Stevens—we used to have our own highway system out there, so that’s called Highway 4 South. So the traffic is going west onto a north-south—onto a road that’s in the right-hand side is going north. But you want to turn left and to head back into town. So they put a stop sign on a wooden post right at the stop line. Well, that’s right on the edge of the traffic—it’s right on the traffic lane. So about every week or so, low lights, not well lit, you get weather, so all of a sudden, about every, once a week, you’d see the stop sign about ten meters over with the pole broken off—the big four-by-four wooden post. So I remember one time, I go, jeez, that’s not very bright. So I put in a safety suggestion. So they thanked me for my safety suggestion. Rockwell Hanford gave me a little product worth 50, 60 cents. Thank you! Okay, but we’re not going to do that, and we’ve already considered it, and it’s safe. And I got that, and I was working shift work. So I’m going home about 7:00 in the morning. And there’s the stop sign over there, the sign sheared off again. So all of the sudden—it never get installed again. They painted a stop sign, they painted stop letters, they moved the sign back. [LAUGHTER] But my suggestion wasn’t going to—so that was kind of fun.
Franklin: Well, thank you so much, Bob.
Parr: Yup.
Franklin: I really appreciate you coming in and giving us a slice of it.
Parr: You know, thank you for doing this, because the Manhattan Project was such an important piece in our history. And being—I’ve been taking a history course and being a former—retired National Guardsman, and the son of a World War II veteran from the Pacific Theater, and seeing the carnage that was Okinawa, and then realizing what the invasion of Japan would have been. I think that puts it all in perspective. And then the work we did—and for me, as a veteran, the big night was the night the wall came down in Berlin. Because that didn’t only put my weekend job in perspective, but it also put the work we’d done out at Hanford. So I think we—the work they do at the national labs, and when we had a criticality safety lab onsite, the work that they did at those facilities—just incredible. I just wish we could have kept FFTF and done power production there. Beautiful reactor. I mean, it had an availability rate of almost 100%. Oh. So. But it’s all about people.
Franklin: Yeah. Great. Well, thank you so much.
Parr: Well, thank you for having me.
Franklin: Yeah. Don’t forget your coffee there.
View interview on Youtube.
Douglas O’Reagan: Okay. Well, thanks for being here, first of all. To start off, would you please pronounce and spell your name for us?
Sue Olson: Sue, S-U-E. Olson, O-L-S-O-N.
O’Reagan: Okay, thank you. And I am Douglas O’Reagan. I’m conducting an oral interview here as part of the Hanford Oral History Project. It’s February 5th, 2016. This interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. So just to get us started, would you please tell us something about your life before you came to Hanford? Where you were growing up and so on.
Olson: I was born in Claude, Texas. I graduated from Panhandle High School as valedictorian in my class. I went to Texas Woman’s University in Denton, Texas. Then went to University of Texas in Austin, Texas. I was—[COUGH] Excuse me. I was in college in an accounting class at the University of Texas in Austin when World War II was declared. I heard the President declare World War II. So at the end of that year, I took a civil service test as clerk typist and I started working for US Corps of Engineers. I first worked at Pantex Ordnance Plant in Amarillo, Texas, and I had to transfer to Tyler, Texas to an army replacement training. And then after that, I received a teletype that I was to enter in for Hanford. We had received a teletype from a lady who had transferred up here, and she had said, don’t come here. It’s rattlesnakes, sagebrush, and dust storms. [LAUGHTER] So I transferred to the Manhattan Project in Oak Ridge, Tennessee. And Manhattan Project had three areas—I worked for the army major who was in charge of one of the areas there. DuPont was the contractor there. And at Oak Ridge, I met Robert Olson, who was with me at DuPont. Before I met him, he worked at the University of Chicago to work on the Manhattan Project—he worked on at the University. And he transferred to Oak Ridge; I met him there. We were married there, and then we transferred to Hanford, with DuPont. We arrived here October 1st, 1944.
O’Reagan: What sort of work did you do at Oak Ridge?
Olson: Well, he and I were at DuPont getting ready to work. The work on the Manhattan Project was to develop the bomb. That was what it was for. And he worked at Oak Ridge.
O’Reagan: Do you know what sort of—was he working in chemicals or physics? Do you know what sort of work he was doing there?
Olson: No, because it was all secret.
O’Reagan: I see. And did you say you were also working there as a clerk?
Olson: I worked as a secretary for the Army Major, who was in charge of the X-10 area in Oak Ridge.
O’Reagan: Okay. When you arrived at Hanford, what sort of work did you undertake here?
Olson: Oh, I signed up to be secretary and DuPont was the contractor here for the first year or so. And they sent me out to 200 West Area to be in the stenographic pool. I was the only secretary there. There were several departments, and all the departments brought their paperwork in to me. [LAUGHTER] And I took dictation for all of them who wanted to write letters of any type. Then they sent another girl out—another secretary out, but she couldn’t take dictation. So I did all of that. There were several departments. I don’t remember the names of all the departments, but it was a major process.
O’Reagan: Was it similar to what you were doing at Oak Ridge, or was it a new kind of work?
Olson: It was the same kind of work, secretarial work.
O’Reagan: Right. What was your impression of the Tri-Cities when you arrived? Was it like you had been warned?
Olson: No. [LAUGHTER] We drove along the highway south of town, and Bob looked over and said, there it is. And we could see a few houses. We went to the hotel to check in at the hotel, and the hotel was called the transient quarters. [LAUGHTER] The hotel in Oak Ridge was called the guest house. We were in the hotel about three days. Then we moved into—at that time the houses were assigned to people. There were only the two of us, and so they moved us into a one-bedroom prefab on Winslow Street.
O’Reagan: In Richland?
Olson: Winslow Street in Richland. And there was one street behind that, and behind that street was desert, all the way out to the river.
O’Reagan: What were your impressions of the house? Did you like the house?
Olson: Well, the house was adequate. It was 600 square feet.
O’Reagan: Mm-hmm. Had a question and it went right out of my mind. [LAUGHTER] Okay. So could you tell us, what was an average day at your job? You said you took dictation, but what other kinds of work—
Olson: Typing. In 200 West Area in 1944, it was typing. Except for the people who dictated. One man came in one day and he dictated the evacuation process, which took him several hours to do it. And the evacuation process—if it had ever had to happen—the process was that it would be on buses—cattle car buses. [LAUGHTER] The seats were on the sides of the bus, vertically, not horizontally across as they are in most buses. But there was never an evacuation process. There was preparation for it, if it had happened.
O’Reagan: Interesting. I understand the transportation to get to jobs on the Hanford site was difficult. Did you take buses?
Olson: Well, there were buses. There were buses, yes.
O’Reagan: was that a long commute?
Olson: Yes. I don’t remember the number of miles, but it’s a long commute from Richland into the West area.
O’Reagan: What was your husband working on?
Olson: He worked on—it was a group of scientists that were—13 or 14 or 15, something like that—and they wrote the separations process. Which was part of the process.
O’Reagan: I guess that was probably a different part of the Hanford site from where you were working?
Olson: No, it was in 200 West Area, too. Yes. And it was a group of scientists who had transferred from Oak Ridge along with Bob.
O’Reagan: Right. Could you please describe Hanford as a place to work? It’s a broad question. Let’s see—what were some of the more challenging aspects of your job?
Olson: Well, that I typed for eight hours a day. I typed or took dictation eight hours a day. No coffee breaks, nothing like that, and everything was confidential. Nobody discussed their job with any other person.
O’Reagan: I would guess you would have had to have had pretty high clearance to be taking dictation on all these sensitive matters. What was that process like?
Olson: Well, I worked in Two West and then I transferred to B Plant, and I went to 300 Area. My next job, I worked for Wilfred Johnson when he was assistant general manager. And I worked in the 703 Building. I had Top Secret clearance there. So I had kept the filing cabinet locked. I took dictation from him. The rest of it was the type you’re making phone calls.
O’Reagan: When did you find out about what the goal of the Hanford site was, to make the weapons?
Olson: When the bomb was dropped, I read it in the local paper.
O’Reagan: What was your reaction?
Olson: I was happy. That the US was going to be safe.
O’Reagan: Right. Do you—trying to think how to phrase—is that your impression of that’s when everybody around you found out as well, or was it sort of a general surprise that the—
Olson: Yes. It was a surprise to everybody, I think. That’s my opinion. Except the men like my husband who were working on it.
O’Reagan: Did you continue working at the Hanford site after the war?
Olson: Yes. I worked there for ten years.
O’Reagan: Did your work change substantially once the war was over?
Olson: Well, as I said, I worked as a secretary in 200 West, and then I moved to B Plant. And I worked in B Plant, and then I went to the 300 Area and was a secretary for the head of metallurgy. And then I had the job as—I was then an executive secretary for Wilfred “Bill” Johnson. And I retired after that period.
O’Reagan: Did the workplace environment change in that time? You mentioned there were no breaks at first.
Olson: Change in what way?
O’Reagan: You mentioned it was very focused work during the war, no breaks, really concentrating to get the job done. Did that become more relaxed eventually, or was it still the same pace?
Olson: Not in the jobs I worked on. Everybody was there to work.
O’Reagan: Interesting.
Olson: No coffee breaks, nothing like that.
O’Reagan: Interesting. How about—can you tell us something about your life outside of work during the wartime?
Olson: We skied. Bob was from Wisconsin. He was a skier. And I grew up in Panhandle, Texas, and I did not ski. But I took lessons. And we skied on weekends.
O’Reagan: Where would you go?
Olson: We went to the closest one, over by—the closest one, which was south of East Richland. Tollgate. We went to Tollgate and skied there. And then we went up to the Snoqualmie Pass, and we skied there when it had only three rope tows. Before they put in any kind of lifts. It was—and I don’t remember the year for that, but—shortly after we got here, we went to Snoqualmie Pass.
O’Reagan: Did the social environment—did life in Richland change for you outside of work once the war was over?
Olson: Well, there were a few more activities, because while the war was going on, there was nowhere to go. [LAUGHTER] We had a friend from Oak Ridge we played bridge with part of the time, and then we skied weekends.
O’Reagan: Did you feel it was easy to meet new people when you moved here?
Olson: Did I feel--?
O’Reagan: I’ve heard some people say that when they first got here, they had a very easy time meeting people; I’ve heard other people say when they got here, they were so focused on the work, they didn’t get to meet as many people—
Olson: Oh, no, no, because we had friends from Oak Ridge who were transferred who were scientists. And people who were at work in that kind of work. So we visited with them, and they—we all had a little group, all the people that came from Oak Ridge. So we had several friends.
O’Reagan: Let’s see. Could you describe any ways in which security or secrecy at Hanford impacted your work?
Olson: Well, of course. [LAUGHTER] No visiting, no coffee breaks—we worked.
O’Reagan: Did the secrecy continue outside of work? I’ve seen in some communities that people feel that they can’t talk about the work, and that sort of gets—someone last week was describing how she sort of felt she had to be on her guard about speaking about her work. She was afraid of that. Did you feel any sort of sense like that?
Olson: We didn’t discuss—we did not discuss work, because we were busy with whatever we were doing—playing bridge or dancing or skiing. So there was no reason to discuss work.
O’Reagan: Sure. When you retired from being a secretary, you mentioned you eventually got into real estate. Is that right?
Olson: Yes.
O’Reagan: Was that right away, or did you have a [INAUDIBLE]
Olson: No, it was not. My husband died in 1974, and so I was at home. I did volunteer work for 20 years. I had no plans to go back to work, but after his death, I decided to work in real estate.
O’Reagan: Will you tell us about your volunteer work?
Olson: Oh, yes, Kadlec Hospital Auxiliary, and Mid-Columbia Symphony Guild, and Girl Scouts. All types of volunteer work.
O’Reagan: Great. What kinds of things did you do at the hospital?
Olson: Volunteer work. I would go down at 7:00 in the morning, and I answered the phone in one of the departments—I think it was the children’s department, that was part of what I did.
O’Reagan: And when you started getting into real estate, can you tell me about that?
Olson: Yes, yes. I took classes at CBC. I studied hard for it, and I passed the test. I started to work for a company called—let’s see—Sherwood and Roberts. They were a company that had offices in this state and California and some other state. I worked for them four years, and then I transferred to other companies.
O’Reagan: Mm-hmm. Did that job change over time? I know the communities started expanding during that period—
Olson: Oh, well, yes, there was more work as the company got larger.
O’Reagan: Could you describe any ways in which you think of the Tri-Cities as changing over the first couple of decades you lived here?
Olson: Well, it got larger. Larger, and they built more houses out past Winslow [LAUGHTER] Winslow Street. Well, of course it changed. There were more activities. Everybody was more—and there were people transferring in and out from large companies. There were a lot of people who came here who had worked for other companies that came here. And some had worked for General Electric or whoever the major contractor was.
O’Reagan: Let’s see. Of course, during a lot of this era, the Cold War is going on as well. Did you feel that that was something sort of just off happening in the world, or was that something that you felt impacted your life?
Olson: The Cold War?
O’Reagan: Yeah, of course, there’s sort of this global conflict going on. There’s a lot of still building nuclear weapons, there’s thinking about use of nuclear weapons. Some people have described sort of a fear during that time, and other people have described they were happy—they went about their work and it didn’t bother them.
Olson: No, there was no fear to me personally. I was happy to see that the US was doing a job extremely well. I hoped it would continue to be good.
O’Reagan: Mm-hmm. Let’s see. This is a general question. How would you like future generations to know about working at Hanford and living in Richland during the period that you lived here?
Olson: I think they should all be very proud of it, because it ended the war.
O’Reagan: Right. Is there anything that you think children growing up today might not know about this period?
Olson: I have no idea whether they know or not.
O’Reagan: Sure. Is there anything you think, beyond—sorry, I have to—trying to think through, just—as people have lived here for some time start thinking back on their lives in the community, how they would like people to think about the history of the local community? I guess you’ve answered that to some degree: we should be proud about the contributions of the time. I guess what I’m trying to get at is—what was different in, say, the ‘60s or the ‘70s, in living in this era than it is today? Anything come to mind?
Olson: I don’t think there was anything different from living in any good community or city.
O’Reagan: One of the local community leaders here—we understand you knew Sam Volpentest—
Olson: Yes.
O’Reagan: --who contributed a lot to the local history. Would you describe your knowledge of his impact, what he was working on when you got to work with him?
Olson: He was a major impact. He saved the Tri-Cities time after time after time. He made contacts in Washington, DC and he kept them. He flew back and forth frequently. Without his perseverance, the Tri-Cities would never have become as good as it had been. He kept sure that Hanford was going, which, at that time, was a main project in the Tri-Cities. And the best one producing.
O’Reagan: I always like to ask—what have I not asked about that I should be asking about? What else should I be asking you about?
Olson: Oh, I don’t know. Nothing else. [LAUGHTER] I think you asked very well, thank you.
O’Reagan: Well, if anything comes to mind, or anything you’d like to expand upon comes to mind, we’d of course love to hear it.
Olson: All right, thank you.
O’Reagan: But otherwise, thanks so much for being here. It’s been very interesting.
Olson: Thank you.
O’Reagan: All right.
Robert Franklin: My name is Robert Franklin. I am conducting an oral history interview with Roger McClellan on September 2nd, 2016. The interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. I will be talking with Roger about his experiences working at the Hanford Site. So, Roger, best place to begin is the beginning. So, when and where were you born?
Roger McClellan: I was born in Tracy, Minnesota, out in the prairies of southwestern Minnesota. Tracy, a little town of 3,000 people. My father was a blue collar worker. My mother came from an agricultural family. They were part of a generation in some ways contributed to but also, their lives were substantially influenced by World War II. They, in some ways, were saved economically. So my father went away in 1942 and I would faithfully write every Sunday evening to him at an APO address in New York, and wonder where he was. In summer ’43, he came home and said, hell, I was up in Canada building an air base on Hudson Bay, Churchill. Up with the polar bears and the Eskimos. And got another job at Hanford Engineering Works, Pasco, Washington. So in two weeks, I’m going to catch the train and be off. And maybe if I can find a place to live, your mom will come out and join me.
Franklin: So—sorry—what year were you born?
McClellan: 1937. January 5, 1937.
Franklin: And do you remember when your father left for HEW?
McClellan: Well, he, as I said, he spent ’42 and ’43 in Canada working on an air base. That construction company ended up being engaged at Hanford. So he came out in ’43, in the summer, and lived at Hanford, the construction town. My mother soon joined him when they found a small trailer they could live in. She worked in the commissary at Hanford. And then in the summer of 1944, they came back to Minnesota. My brother and I had lived with our grandparents on a farm for a year, and my sister with an aunt. So we got on the train and headed out to the state of Washington on a new adventure in the summer of 1944.
Franklin: Wow.
McClellan: And then that fall—we lived for the summer in Sunnyside, Washington. I remember well an eight-plex apartment, if you will. Pretty exciting. You’d go to the end of our street, take a right, go a half mile, and there was an honest-to-God Indian teepee with an Indian that lived in it. That was pretty exciting for young kids.
Franklin: I bet. Was that one of the Navy homes?
McClellan: No, that was a part of the Hanford complex, that they had built some housing in outlying areas while they were constructing new homes in Richland. So near the end of August, my father came home one day and said, hey, they finished a new group of houses in Richland, and we’re going to be moving down next week or two. Neighbors would drive us down, I’m going to come in off of graveyard shift and I’ll be at our new home, and you can meet me there.
Franklin: And what kind of home was it?
McClellan: Well, we said, well, where is it? He said, well, it’s a three-bedroom prefabricated house, a so-called prefab.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
McClellan: And it’s on 1809 McClellan Street. And my kid brother and I jumped up and down and said, gee, on our own street! [LAUGHTER] So we later learned that, you know, many of the streets were named for individuals in the Corps of Engineers. So McClellan was in the Corps of Engineers, a one-block-long street, up in the—I guess, what? Southwest side of Richland.
Franklin: Yeah. I live a stone’s throw away from—I live on Stanton.
McClellan: Yeah, okay.
Franklin: In a two-bedroom prefab.
McClellan: So we did just as he said. The neighbors drove us down and we got to the new house. The door was open, we went in, and there was my dad, flaked out in the bed. He’d come home from graveyard shift and welcomed us to our new home.
Franklin: Are you related to General—is there any family relation to General McClellan?
McClellan: Well, only speculation. Probably one of my more noteworthy traits is procrastination. And as you may recall, General McClellan had some problems with procrastination.
Franklin: Yeah, as a US historian, I’m very well-versed in—[LAUGHTER] Especially the first three years of the Civil War. Yes, he certainly was.
McClellan: And he also liked the libation, and I think we shared a similar taste there.
Franklin: And luster. [LAUGHTER]
McClellan: But he was short of stature; I’m tall of stature.
Franklin: Yeah, he looked good on a horse.
McClellan: But I don’t know. I’ve done a little bit of digging and I found, you know, a cluster of McClellans there in Kirkcudbright in Scotland. We actually have a Castle MacLellan. It’s more of a large manor house than a castle. But interesting.
Franklin: What did your father do at the Hanford Site?
McClellan: Well, my father initially worked in construction and then very quickly as they started to assemble the operational workforce, he went to work as a patrolman. You know, part of the, what today we call, security force. Of course, worked for DuPont. He moved quickly from there into what was called the separations department or operation. That was the unit that we learned later was involved in separating out the product, plutonium, from the irradiated fuel elements containing uranium. So he spent most of his career, actually, working in the PUREX facility.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
McClellan: Earlier he had some time in the bismuth phosphate separation plant. And then in the RADOX and then PUREX was ultimately the big workhorse separations facility for the Hanford operations.
Franklin: And how long did your father work at Hanford for?
McClellan: Well, for his total life then. I think he passed away age 62. My mother, very soon after we came to Richland, went to work in the food services facility at Marcus Whitman Elementary School, which was where we were going to school. So I do remember in the third grade, seeing my mom in the cafeteria as we went through and picked up our lunches. She was a very ambitious lady, very intelligent. She got her shorthand and typing in quick order and then went to work and became the secretary of the principal of Columbia High School. She always commented she was pleased that one of the students in the class, I think of 1948, a noteworthy graduate was Gene Conley. The trivia question is, who is one of the athletes that played for two different sports teams in terms of major sports? And that’s Gene Conley, Col High graduate who played for the Boston Red Sox and the Boston Celtics, and earlier here was a student at Washington State University.
Franklin: Wow, interesting.
McClellan: So my mother spent basically her career as a professional administrator.
Franklin: Did she work at Hanford at all?
McClellan: No, she really always kind of focused on wanting her family.
Franklin: Right.
McClellan: And she really didn’t want that extra travel time. So she worked for a period of time at the United Way or Community Chest, and then back into the school system and was the administrative assistant or secretary to a number of principals in different schools in the Richland school system.
Franklin: So, tell me about growing up in Richland in a government town, and in a prefab, and how that--
McClellan: Well, I think growing up and—obviously, growing up is a unique experience. [LAUGHTER] For everyone. But we had come from a small town in Minnesota. Everybody knew everybody else. Everybody was from there.
Franklin: Right.
McClellan: Many of them had two, three, four generations living in the area. Coming to Richland was totally different environment. Everyone was from somewhere else. There were a number of people from Utah, a number of people from Colorado, Denver. Turns out all of those were connections back to DuPont, and DuPont’s operation of facilities in those areas. And there were quite a number from the Midwest and a few from Montana. Areas where there was not a lot of industrial activity. People could be recruited. Like my father, in terms of married, three children, why, he was lower down in the draft order. So, that was prototypical of many of the people. My classmates would be families of two, three, four, five kids and their fathers, in some case were blue collar workers, in some cases were engineers. New kinds of professionals that I never had experience with, even as a little kid, and later when I’d spend summers with my grandparents on the farm in Minnesota. Yeah, the professionals we came in contact with were our family doctor, the farm veterinarian, the lawyer, the banker. So Richland, one of the interesting aspects was the extent to—as a young kid I had fellow students whose fathers were engineers or chemists. In fact, one of my classmates, class of 1954 from Columbia High School, his father was W.E. Johnson.
Franklin: Oh!
McClellan: He was the top guy running Hanford for many years for the General Electric Company.
Franklin: Yeah.
McClellan: The other thing that’s unique is that no one owned their own home.
Franklin: Right.
McClellan: You rented your home. DuPont left soon after the war ended. DuPont had been brought in because they were really a unique company. Not only were they large, but they, because of the nature of their business, producing explosives, they were in the business of designing, building, and operating facilities. That was a unique set of activities. So, as I say, you’re working with building and manufacturing explosives. You want to know that your facility—
Franklin: Right, and I imagine, too, that there’s a culture of safety in DuPont in dealing with such—
McClellan: Oh, absolutely.
Franklin: When your product is explosive and—
McClellan: Yeah. And many years later I would actually have interactions professionally in terms of DuPont, and that safety culture was present and continues today. But that was also present at Hanford. And then that ability, as I say, to make modifications in the design as new information came available.
Franklin: And do that in-house, too.
McClellan: Yeah, that was all done in-house. Then we euphemistically said that changed from DuPont to Generous Electric. General Electric was the prime contractor, and sometimes we’d refer to them as Generous Electric. Of course, they operated on a pass-through basis. It was federal dollars. That’s the other thing I think unique in terms of Richland and Richland school systems. There was no private property. So there was no private tax base. So the dollars for the Richland schools flowed through, let’s say, line of dollars that came from Washington in terms of appropriation—authorization and appropriations, and were ultimately administered by the Richland Operations Office of the Atomic Energy Commission. So if you’re in the Richland Operations Office and you’re involved in overseeing the expenditure of dollars, your kids are going to the Richland schools, you’re certainly not going to slice some dollars off the budget for School District 400, Richland. Your kids are going to be impacted. So the schools were, quite frankly, extraordinary quality. I don’t think I fully appreciated that at the time.
Franklin: [LAUGHTER] I don’t think any of us do at the time.
McClellan: Yeah. So as I told someone, even recently, you know, I’m still working off the vapor left in the fuel tank that they started to fill when I went to Marcus Whitman, then Carmichael, and Col High, and then headed off to Washington State University.
Franklin: Wow. What else can you say about growing up in Richland that might be different from a lot of other people’s experiences in a normal—
McClellan: Well, I think at that time, in Richland, there was an element of kind of the long hand of Washington in planning communities. There was an interesting intersection of class, if you will, more based on, are you an hourly worker or are you a monthly payroll? So-called non-exempt and exempt payroll. And there was a recognition that there was an element of status associated with education. But overlaying that, at the intersection was the fact that when we moved from 1809 McClellan Street to 1122 Perkins, we lived in a B house. Now, that’s one of the things that’s a little different. I mean, the houses had alpha-numbers on them. A houses, B houses, one-, two-, three-bedroom prefabs. So a B house was a duplex, two bedrooms on each end. But on Perkins Street, we could look across the street and there were two L houses. Those were two-story and four bedrooms upstairs; living room, dining room, kitchen downstairs. They were pretty spiffy. So here you have this strange junction of somebody who was an hourly worker was not at first bat going to be assigned an L house to live in.
Franklin: Right.
McClellan: You were a manager. The manager that lived across the street, ultimately, would become the chief engineer for the Hanford Project. That was Oren H. Pilkey, P-I-L-K-E-Y. A senior. And he was an engineer. Grew up in Texas, trained as an engineer at Texas A&M, and then gone off to work for Chicago Bridge and Ironworks. Had a lot of experience. So I remember well—you know, I’m kind of a tall, even in those days, skinny kid, and I was playing out in the front yard, and I saw this black Ford sedan drive in to the L house that had recently become vacant, and out hopped four people. They weren’t too unusual, except they were short of stature. The two adults were about five-foot-four, and the kids were under five-foot. We soon became good friends. Ultimately, Oren Pilkey was one of my scout masters and a mentor.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
McClellan: He encouraged me in terms of mathematics, engineering, physical sciences. A love and appreciation for the outdoors. But I did many Sunday afternoon kind of engineering, or learning experiences in his study at his home. I remember doing one of those. It was a calculation of pressure in a large tank, what the pressure would be involved in lifting the lid on the large tank. Only many years later did I learn that was the double-walled steel tanks at Hanford that he was overseeing developing. On that particular occasion, I actually could best his son, who was my classmate in high school, Walter Pilkey. Walter would go on to become a very distinguished engineer and professor of Engineering Science at the University of Virginia. His older brother, who was my good friend also, Oren Pilkey, Junior, went on and very distinguished career in marine geology, was a Washington Duke professor of geology at Duke University. So, I think that kind of segueways back in terms of the educational environment. I think there was a lot of inspiration, if you will. As a young kid you could see people who were successful, and you soon recognized success was tied to education.
Franklin: Right, I suppose it’s knowing so many people from so many different places. I guess I could imagine maybe that people in Richland were aware of a wider world than, say, someone in a small town in Minnesota or Arkansas might be.
McClellan: Well, I think that’s true. And I think they each brought their own culture. I mean, I recall our next door neighbors in Sunnyside. They were from Oklahoma. Even as a seven-year-old, I kind of knew a bit about the Dust Bowl and whatever, and the Okies. I was admonished by my parents, we’re not supposed to call them Okies. That’s a little bit of a derogatory term. But I still remember an experience, going with my mother, and she of course had her troop of three kids. I was seven, my brother was five-and-a-half and my sister was four, and we were going downtown Sunnyside to mail some packages and shopping. The lady next door had her troop of three kids about the same age, except she had a newborn baby. So we went into the Sunnyside post office and mailed our packages and came out, and the baby started to squall. And so the lady sat on the steps of the post office in Sunnyside and opened her blouse and started to nurse her baby. Well, that was not quite what you would expect in Tracy, Minnesota. Little bit different culture. So you had different cultures. Again, my friends, the Pilkeys, their mother had gone to Hunter College in New York. Very well-educated lady. We would very frequently take trips to the public library on Sunday afternoon to pick up a new collection of books. If you went to her home, why, there’d be a book on almost every table. She was an avid reader. And that encouraged us to do the same.
Franklin: That’s very interesting—sorry. Go ahead.
McClellan: Well, so, I think the difference in everybody being from somewhere else was something that kind of pulled things apart, in terms of a community. On the other hand, the fact that everybody was in some way involved with Hanford brought people together. And overlaying that, in those days—the late ‘40s—was the element of secrecy. You didn’t really know what was going on. Things were compartmentalized. Many years later, I was taking a graduate course at what was then the WSU Joint Graduate Center. In a sense a predecessor of—
Franklin: Right, pretty much right here.
McClellan: WSU. So the individual teaching that was Doctor Lyle Swindeman, who was an environmental scientist at the Hanford Laboratories. And we were going through each of the different AEC facilities around the country: Oak Ridge, Los Alamos, Shipping Port—whatever—as to what they did, how they managed environmental activities. It was really rather remarkable in terms of the early 1960s, when I took that. One of them we focused on, of course, was Hanford. That particular evening, we had a flow chart for the PUREX facility. I came home and I was doing some homework at the table. My father came home from a swing shift and sat down with a cup of coffee, and we’re chatting and looking at what I’m doing. And he said, what the hell are you doing? Those are classified! [LAUGHTER] I said, no, no, look up there. It’s unclassified. He said, no, I think that’s classified. That’s what we’re doing all the time. So there was this little bit of a conflict there. He was not absolutely convinced that I had the unclassified version of the flow documents for the PUREX facility.
Franklin: Well, that makes sense, too, right, because he would have come to Hanford during World War II when secrecy was paramount. I mean—
McClellan: Oh!
Franklin: If you said anything about your job, you could easily be on the next train out.
McClellan: Oh, absolutely. And the other is elements—I recently had a conversation with some people in terms of plutonium workers at Hanford, which my father was one of those. Ironically, many years later, I would be studying plutonium. I was involved in the first meeting that gave rise to the US Transuranium and Uranium Registry. My father was enrolled in that. And I continue today to have an interest in plutonium toxicity and what we do to protect the workers, which, in my opinion, was remarkable in terms of at Hanford. Part of that is you have a bioassay program. Well, what’s bioassay? One of the elements of the bioassay program is that you collect samples of urine periodically, you analyze them for radioactivity, and then using very sophisticated models, go back and project—estimate—what exposures an individual may have in terms of internal deposition. Well, it was classified as to what people did, but now I can understand, if I had just gone down the street and taken a look at which addresses had a gray box on the front doorstep, which was the urine samples that were being collected, I could have identified who were the prospective plutonium workers at Hanford. I don’t know if the Soviets had anybody doing those street checks in Richland or not, but they could have identified who were the plutonium workers pretty readily.
Franklin: Interesting. I just wanted to come back to something, and say that it’s remarkable to hear you talk about the impact of the mixed income neighborhood you lived in, and that you identified that we lived in this mixed income neighborhood from the B house next to the L. Because that was, as you might know, that was Pherson—Albin Pherson—the man who designed the Richland village. That was his idea. That was one of the things he pushed through, was having mixed income neighborhoods, so that you didn’t have a total segregation of people by class.
McClellan: Yeah. Yeah.
Franklin: It’s interesting to hear your views on that and how that affected you.
McClellan: Yeah. No, there was that element of kind of a utopian plan community approach. I don’t want to go too far on it. There’s a book out there, it’s got a corruption of the word plutonium in it, written by an individual who puts herself forward as an academic historian. I’m not certain where she got her degree, what her credentials, but I can tell you the book is filled with hogwash, as my grandfather would say. Absolute, unvarnished hogwash. I don’t know where she got a lot of her information—it’s misinformation, as she tries to contrast and compare Richland, the Hanford Site, with Mayak in the Soviet Union. I’ve studied both of those; I know both of them quite well. And I also know the outcomes, in terms of health of workers at both those sites. She’s totally off base. I always like to call that to people’s attention. They say, have you read the book in its entirety? I say, I’ve read pieces of it, but I really don’t want to waste my money buying it.
Franklin: I see. So, you graduated in ’54, correct? From Columbia High.
McClellan: Right.
Franklin: And then you went to WSC.
McClellan: Right.
Franklin: So what did you go to study at—
McClellan: Well, we have to back up a ways.
Franklin: Oh, okay, let’s do that.
McClellan: There’s an interesting event that occurred. I’m going to be a little bit vague in this because I may not remember the specific dates. But 1948—using the royal we—the US detected airborne radioactivity on the west coast of the USA. That was not surprising; we knew that the Soviets were building a copycat facility to Hanford. When we detected radioactivity in the air, specifically radioiodine, iodine-131, that was a very good—not just clue—but we knew they were processing radioactive fuel.
Franklin: I’ve heard that their first facility was almost an exact copy of the one in the 300 Area, except instead of being horizontal, it was vertical. Do you know anything about—
McClellan: I’m not really knowledgeable of the absolute details of theirs, but again, the key element is that what they were doing is they were taking refined uranium fuel—
Franklin: Right.
McClellan: --creating a reaction, in terms of neutrons and producing plutonium-239.
Franklin: Right. We knew they were doing the same thing that we were doing.
McClellan: Exactly. And when we detected radioiodine in the air, we knew they were processing that fuel. Now, the key is how much plutonium were they producing? That’s what we really wanted to know. And somebody said, well, gee, they’re doing just what we did at Hanford. They’re processing green fuel. Well, what do we mean by green fuel? Green fuel is freshly irradiated uranium oxide fuel with plutonium in it. And were now, rather than letting that cool down for a period of time, so the short live radionuclides decay off, were processing it almost immediately because we want the plutonium. That’s what happened in terms of Hanford when the first processing, I think late in 1944, early 1945, to produce plutonium to go to Los Alamos. So, somebody said, well, gee, if we know there’s x radioiodine in the air, what we want to know is y amount of plutonium. Well, why don’t we just repeat that big experiment? So that was Operation Green Run. That was the code name for what would ultimately be the largest—to my knowledge—release of radioactivity from the Hanford Operations. A planned experiment that went astray. They took the freshly irradiated green fuel, chopped it, added the nitric acid. I have reason to go back through the dates—my father was probably involved in that crew. And then the radioiodine started to come out the stack. But Mother Nature didn’t cooperate. We had a major meteorological inversion, and, basically, fumigated, quote, the Inland Empire with short-lived iodine-131. It has an eight-day half-life. That would create controversy over whether there were ill effects related to that. As it turned out, in terms of those releases—that was highly classified—but it led to a real push in further work at Hanford on radioiodine. They started a major study. That study involved feeding radioactive iodine to sheep each day. And along the way, they decided, gee, you know we always have this possibility of exposures on the site. Why don’t we maintain an offsite flock of control sheep? Ah, that sounds like a good idea. Who could do that? Well, gee, why don’t we have the Richland schools do that? I can’t go through all the details, but I’m reasonably certain there were discussions at rather high levels. Rather surprisingly, the Richland School District started a vocational agriculture program. I was one of the early students in that program. The school farm was located right across the road from where the WSU Tri-Cities campus is located today.
Franklin: Oh, right.
McClellan: We had a large tract of land, and in fact, if you were enterprising as I was, you could sublease a piece of that land. I actually had the sublease on the ten acres right at the corner of Jadwin across from the WSU campus where I grew corn and alfalfa for four years that I was in high school. I also had several orchards and a vineyard for two years. But that school farm maintained the offsite control sheep for the big Hanford radioiodine and thyroid cancer study that was being conducted. What was particularly important out of that is one of the people that WSU recruited was Leo K. Bustad. Leo K. Bustad was a veterinarian. He had been a distinguished military veteran. Had spent a significant portion of his military time in World War II in German prisoner of war camp, which substantially influenced him. He came back to WSU and pursued a master’s degree in nutrition and a Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree. When he received the DVM and the nutrition degree, he was an ideal candidate to recruit to Hanford for involvement in the studies on radiation effects. I first, then, met Leo Bustad when he was a Hanford scientist and periodically would stop by the school farm and check on the status of those offsite control sheep. So, he encouraged me in terms of veterinary medicine. My friend, Oren Pilkey, across the street encouraged me in engineering. When I headed off to WSU—or WSC—1954, I actually enrolled as an engineering student. I took engineering. I took economics. I took pre-veterinary medicine. And then I decided to go down the pathway of veterinary medicine. That led me, then, to seek summer employment. [LAUGHTER] And so I was employed as a student at Hanford for three years—’57, ’58, ’59. And then Leo twisted my arm to come back as a full-time scientist in 1960, when I received my Doctor of Veterinary Medicine degree. [37:40]
Franklin: Wow. We should note that Bustad is also one of the most well-known or prodigious WSU alumni in terms of his contributions to veterinary medicine and, you know, there’s an entire hall named after him on campus.
McClellan: Well, Leo is a wonderful remarkable individual. I can relate many, many stories with regard to Leo. But one of those—I’d just finished what was probably my first major scientific manuscript on the metabolism of strontium-90. Strontium-90 is an alkaline earth element. Behaves very much like calcium. So it’s readily absorbed in the GI tract, goes to the skeleton. Radio strontium, strontium-90, is a beta emitter, radiates then the bone and the bone marrow. So you’re concerned for those effects. So we were studying strontium-90 in miniature pigs. So I had finished this manuscript on metabolism of strontium-90 and gave it to Leo to review. Leo said, I’ll read through it tonight, come back tomorrow, and we can talk about it. So I came in the next day, and he said, well, this is really good. But there’s kind of a little bit of a problem with a few aspects. I said, oh, what’s that? He said, well, rather surprised there’s only one author. I knew, uh-oh. Boy, I goofed. I said, oh, well, this was just a draft, Leo. He said, well, I hope so. I thought I had quite a bit to do with the design of that experiment. I said, what else? He said, well, it’s got some statistics in here. You and I aren’t statisticians. Maybe we ought to have somebody else review this. I said, who do you have in mind? And he said, Carl. Turns out that he was sort of the top statistician at Hanford. I said, we don’t to waste his time then. He said, oh, I’ve already called him up. He’s expecting you in his office at 300 Area at 4:00. And he said, we’ll have to have it wrapped up by 7:00 because I’m going to be home for dinner at 7:30. Sure enough, I went in and we spent three hours—a wonderful experience. Very junior scientist and here’s one of the leading statisticians in the world, in fact. So I said, what else? And he said, well, we need some good editorial advice? I said, well, what are you thinking about? He said, well, what about Phil Abelson? I said, Phil Abelson, the editor of Science magazine? And he said, yeah! I said, well, we’re going to need some connections there, Leo. He says, we got them. He’s a Cougar! He picked up the phone and called Phil Abelson. And introduced me to Phil on the phone. And that was the beginning of a lifetime association that I had with Phil Abelson.
Franklin: Who also has a building named after him on campus.
McClellan: Yeah. And many years later, I was the president and CEO for an organization called the Chemical Industry Institute of Toxicology from 1988 to 1999. And Phil Abelson was on my board of directors. So Phil and I were lifelong friends. I was very pleased, many years later, when I was recognized as a Regent’s Distinguished Alumnus at Washington State University to actually—I knew that Phil was also an alumnus, but I didn’t appreciate he was the first Regent’s Alumnus in terms of Washington State University. And then as I went down the list further, Leo Bustad was on that list. So I’m very proud in terms of that lineage.
Franklin: That’s great. As a side note, your name was so familiar to me in the beginning because I did a project for them—for University Communications for a historical timeline and had to find pictures of all the Regent’s Distinguished—what year were you a Regent’s Distinguished—
McClellan: Golly, I think 2007, maybe.
Franklin: Okay, I think I found your picture somewhere and put it up on the website.
McClellan: Yeah.
Franklin: It’s funny. So, wow. You got all three degrees at Washington State?
McClellan: No, no, I only received one. It’s always interesting, particularly if I’m appearing in the court room. They’ll say where did you get your bachelor’s degree? I say, I don’t have one. You know, plaintiff lawyers spend a lot of time on that. I went to WSU at a time period when you could actually gain admission with the appropriate number of credit hours after two years. So I ended up going to Washington State University and completing my only degree, a Doctorate of Veterinary Medicine, in six years, and graduated in 1960.
Franklin: Wow.
McClellan: So I was 23 years old. I later—kind of on a lark—took a Master’s in Management Science—an MBA in an executive program—at the University of New Mexico. I received that degree in 1980. That was a lot of fun, because, again, it was multidisciplinary. There were engineers; there were chemists, physicists, social scientists, physicians, lawyers. I’ve alwys enjoyed that kind of interdisciplinary environment. I had that in terms of that program at Robert O. Anderson School of Management at University of New Mexico. And then later I had the good fortunate that the Ohio State University recognized my career in comparative veterinary medicine and awarded me an honorary Doctor of Science degree, which I’m very proud to have received.
Franklin: So you said—you mentioned that you worked three summesr at the Hanford Site and then were brought on at Bustad’s urgings back to Hanford. So how long did you stay at—so you graduated in 1960 and then came back to—
McClellan: Yeah. Well then I actually—I planned to stay two years until my fiancée, Kathleen—Kathleen Donnegan—graduated from Washington State. Then we’d have kind of free range. One of my understandings with Bustad when I came to Hanford is he would make certain I could visit all the schools around the USA that I was interested in potentially going to to pursue a graduate degree. He said, I won’t get you to Perth, Australia, the other one you’re considering, but I’ll get you to those five in the US. And he did live up to his bargain. Leo was a great mentor in terms of encouraging me to do lots of different things and always push yourself to the limit. He signed me up—I think the second year I was at Hanford, I was 24 years old, and he asked me to keep a day open. As I recall, it was in March ’62. And I said, well, Leo, we need to fill in the calendar; what do you have in mind? He said, well, I signed you up to give a seminar at the University of Washington on bone marrow transplantation in miniature pigs. [LAUGHTER] It was pretty heavy. But he was reassuring. As I was getting my slides together, he said, Roger, remember when you talk to that group of people, you’re going to know more about the subject than anybody in that room. That’s great advice to a young student—young scientist—to have confidence. That if you’re well-prepared, you could go before a pretty formidable audience, because you should know more about that topic than anybody in that room.
Franklin: Right. How was it, coming back to Hanford after it had been privatized? I’m sure you probably—your parents lived—
McClellan: Yeah, actually it was—when I was at WSC, my parents bought their home. So I saw those activities. And then, when I was employed, I was in the Hanford Laboratories. That was a remarkable institution, organization. The individual that headed that was H. M. Parker—Herbert M. Parker. The biology division within that was headed up by Harry A. Kornberg. Leo Bustad reported to Kornberg. I reported to Bustad. I was on a very short reporting line, if you will. Mr. Parker reported to W. A. Johnson. So I knew Herb Parker personally. I’d had the opportunity to give one of what were sometimes called the Parker seminars—individuals would be invited to give a seminar for Mr. Parker and a very small group of people in Parker’s office and library in 300 Area. Those were always with some trepidation. You couldn’t turn down that invitation, because people maneuvered to get them. But that was a pretty august audience they had at the laboratories—H. M. Parker listening to your presentation and having questions.
Franklin: That sounds like a very encouraging workplace.
McClellan: Oh, it was!
Franklin: [INAUDIBLE] of research discipline and hard work.
McClellan: And hard work was rewarded. I remember in 1962, I had a call from Mr. Parker’s office to come in. A little bit uncertain. Leo Bustad had kind of gone out on a limb in terms of encouraging me to go to an international meeting in England at the International Congress of Radiation Research. I initially took in my travel schedule and Leo took a look and said, gee, this doesn’t look very good, Roger. And I said, what do you mean? I’m going to the meeting for a week, I’m going to take a week’s vacation. It’s going to be just a month or so after I’m married. He said, oh, no, no problem with that. I’d like you to spend a lot more time there. There’s a lot of people I want you to see and meet. So he said I’ll draw up a revised schedule. So I came back the next day and he had a schedule that was four weeks! I said, holy cow! I said, Leo, this isn’t going to fly. I mean, it certainly won’t get by Mr. Parker. And he said, what do you mean? I said, well, you don’t know the saying. There’s a saying around the lab with the working troops that if you’re gone two weeks, you’re gone forever. I said I don’t want to tempt fate. He said, oh, Herb’s bark is always a lot sharper than his bite. He said, I think he’ll approve this. He thinks you’re one of our rising stars. So sure enough, Herb Parker approved it. And then just the week before I’m going to this meeting, I get a call from Mr. Parker’s office. And I thought, uh-oh, he’s going to personally tell me he’s changed his mind. So I went into his office, and seated in the outer room, the door to the strong room, if you will, open. And Mr. Parker, a rather large individual, came out with his kind of limp handshake. Hello, Roger, great to have you here. Come on in. And then, you’re probably wondering why I’ve invited you to my office today. And I said, well, I am. [LAUGHTER] He said, well, we have a program here. I like to recognize people for their contributions, and it’s a rather private matter. And he gave me a little black leather case, and it had a nice little commemorative statement in there. Then he reached into his coat pocket and he pulled out an envelope and he said, and there is a monetary award that goes with this. I’m sure that’s going to be useful on that very prolonged trip you have planned to Europe. [LAUGHTER] So, Herb could have a—he was an outstanding scientist—also had a very wry, British humor. He certainly encouraged me to become involved in activities in radiation protection. I’m very confident I would never have become a member of the National Counsel of Radiation Protection and Measurements if it had not been for the encouragement that Herb Parker and Leo Bustad gave me.
Franklin: Could you speak a little—just for people that might not know—could you speak a little more about Herb Parker and his work at Hanford. Since you knew him personally, Herb Parker’s working at Hanford and his importance to Hanford.
McClellan: Well, Herb Parker was trained as a radiological physicist in England. Very bright individual. Did some seminal work in radiological physics, particularly related to treatment of cancer, and what we call [UNKNOWN] dose curves. He developed these to estimate the radiation dose that would be delivered to a tumor, if you will, from an external x-ray beam. One of the people that he learned of and came in contact with was Dr. Cantrell at Swedish Cancer Institute in Seattle. So, he joined Cantrell to continue his work. And then World War II came along and Herb got pulled into the Manhattan Project. He was a part of a group of individuals trained primarily in physics, some in chemistry, and brought together initially at Oak Ridge. They were to be sort of the liaison between the operations, the medical community, and assuring the safety of workers. That coded, if you will, as health physics. That was done in part because no one wanted to use the term radiological in terms of this particular activity, because of the secrecy during World War II. Later, Herb would express profound dislike for that term, health physics. I agree with him. I would think it probably was a useful placeholder for a time period. So Herb was one of that early group, and he was assigned to Hanford, I think. If memory serves me, he came to Hanford in August of 1944. I said I came in September to start the third grade in 1944. And Herb had a key role in the overall design and management, ultimately, of the program in terms of radiological protection of the Hanford workers, and you could go more broadly, protection in terms of chemical agents. And not protection just of workers but the total environmental program. In my opinion, the program that Herb Parker really provided the leadership for was one of the foremost programs in terms of environmental and worker protection that was ever put in place in prospective way. Evidence of that, Mr. Parker—and it was Mr. Parker; he did not have an earned doctoral degree—set about writing with Cantrell kind of a handbook, if you will, on radiation protection. What is it? What is radiation? What does it do to the body? He wanted to see that distributed to the appropriate workers at the earliest possible date. It ran into some difficulties in terms of clearance, but it ultimately was released on January 5th, 1945. My eighth birthday. [LAUGHTER] So it’s easy for me to recall. That document is an extraordinary exposition on what we knew about radiation then. And many of the basic concepts that were outlined by Cantrell and Parker in that document are still applicable today.
Franklin: So he’s really a major leader in health physics.
McClellan: Yeah, and I would say, Herb would probably—he would prefer radiological protection.
Franklin: Radiological protection.
McClellan: Yeah, and I see it as that big picture of protection of workers and the environment from agents, whether the agents were working, processing, in terms of the whole chain of radioactive materials, uranium to plutonium fission products, or whether we’re talking about chemicals. My career, in fact, has been punctuated—I’ve been involved in radiation throughout my career, but I’ve also spent a very large portion of it dealing with chemical agents.
Franklin: How long did you work at Hanford Labs?
McClellan: Well, as I said, I came back as a permanent scientist 1960. I was very fortunate, I think, working under the leadership of Leo Bustad and Harry Kornberg and Mr. Parker, to be advanced very early to rank Senior Scientist. I soon put the graduate program sort of on the side and pushed ahead. In 1964, Leo came to me and said, you know, they’re pushing on me again to come back to Washington, D.C. on a special assignment. I’m not really enthusiastic about it because my kids are in school. But I think I’m going to suggest they take a look at you. What do you think about that? And I said, well, gee. That sounds like an interesting opportunity. So, first thing you know, I’m on my way to Washignton, D.C. and a series of interviews. We reached agreement that in October 1 of 1964, I’ll go to Washington, D.C. Well, then, all of the sudden, things started to change in the summer, basically, of ’64. The decision that General Electric is going to leave, that total operation is going to be fragmented. Sometimes I refer to that as the disparaging phrase of, maintaining employment in the face of absence of a product. Because it was pretty clear we had enough plutonium-239. We didn’t need Hanford any longer to produce any more. General Electric ran a very efficient operation. So, General Electric headed out, and they start to look at firms to run different pieces of the operation. It became known that the laboratories would be managed as a separate enterprise, and very quickly we learned that was going to be Battelle Memorial Institute from Columbus. For those of at Hanford, it didn’t take much time in the library to kind of determine that, gee, this seems to be upside-down. We ought to be taking over Battelle, not Battelle taking us over. But that’s the way it was. So I was interviewed by Sherwood Fawcett, who had been announced as the first director of what would become the Pacific Northwest Laboratories. The outcome was predictable. They said, we want you to join the Battelle team. We seem to have this problem: you’re leaving before we arrive. So I said, well, that’s just the way it is. [LAUGHTER] And he said, well, maybe we could delay your departure. I said, well, perhaps we could talk to the people in the AEC and see if they’d be agreeable. But Dr. Fawcett said, well, what would they have to do with it? And I still remember telling him, they had something to do with everything that goes on here. They certainly will have a say. Well, they were quickly agreed. So it was agreed that I would become a Battelle employee. So as I recall, January 4th or thereabouts, 1965, I walked out the door on Friday evening and threw my GE badge in the box and came in on Monday morning and picked up a Battelle badge, and that Friday I headed out on a leave of absence to join the division of biology and medicine at the Atomic Energy Commission in Washington, D.C.
Franklin: Wow.
McClellan: So the next phase is after not quite two years in Washington. I spent—I was then strongly encouraged to go to Albuquerque, New Mexico to run a research program on inhaled radioactivity that was operated by the Lovelace Foundation for Medical Education and Research, a part of a triad of a medical research institute, a private medical clinic and a hospital. And in that role, running that program, I essentially competed with Hanford in terms of a very significant research program that Bill Bair pioneered in leading at Hanford. So while I was gone from Hanford, I in a sense remained connected, certainly scientifically. And as a competitor, but a very friendly competition.
Franklin: [LAUGHTER] And did you ever come back to work at Hanford after you went to New Mexico?
McClellan: Well, I never came—well, I came for a couple weeks in the summer of ’66 and sort of bid my farewell. Wrapped up a few things. And I continued to publish some papers interrelated. I came back many times in terms of the Hanford Symposium that became a regular feature. And then I had the opportunity, more recently, to serve on the Scientific Advisory Committee for the US Transuranium and Uranium Registry. Which, ironically, I was involved in in some of the early activities initiating it in 1966. Now we’re 50 years later, celebrating the 50th anniversary of a landmark program started by group of occupational physicians, Dag Norwood, one of those small contractors in the privatized acitivites at Hanford. Then that later went over to Washington State University, and today is maintained and operated as a piece of the Washington State University College of Pharmacy.
Franklin: Yup. When you were at Hanford Labs, what kinds of work were you—you mentioned work on pigs, bone marrow—what other kinds of work were you doing?
McClellan: Well, we had a major study that Leo was wrapping up on the effects of radioiodine in thyroid cancer in sheep. I did some ancillary studies related to how we translated those results to people, to humans. One of the key pieces of work that I did—and it really fit into a bigger picture with many people involved, but—we looked at the effects of x radiation of the thyroid gland and compared that to the protracted beta radiation of the thyroid from ingested or inhaled radioiodine. That showed that the protracted radiation exposure was much less effective in causing damage to the thyroid. So that was a very important piece of work. Another major study that—the primary one I had responsibility for was one that involved miniature pigs given strontium-90. They received their strontium-90 dose each day. We had three generations of pigs. Not because it was a study of genetic effects, but that’s the way in which we could introduce additional animals into the study. It ultimately involved over 1,000 miniature pigs, essentially studied for their total lifespan. And the endpoints were the development of bone marrow discrasias, bone marrow cancers, leukemia, and a development of bone cancers. So that study continued after I left. I think, in total, it represented a very important contribution. A key finding, again, was the importance of dose rate delivery. When radiation dose is protracted over time, it’s much less effective in causing damage and causing cancer. Another key study that was done during that time period linked back to Operation Green Run. We essentially simulated a part of that in a study in which we fed radioiodine—iodine-131 to dairy cows. We followed the thyroid in radioactivity in dairy cows. We collected samples of the milk—we milked them. And then we had a group of volunteers that drank that radioiodine-contaminated milk, elements of it. And then we monitored their thyroids. So you could put together this total picture of a contamination event in terms of iodine-131. What’s happening in terms of the cow’s thyroids accumulating iodine, what’s happening in terms of the iodine-131 in the milk, and then what is happening in terms of concentration of radioiodine in the human thyroid for people ingesting that. That was a very valuable set of data to help us understand what happened in terms of Operation Green Run. It was an extraordinarily valuable piece of information we could use in terms of assessing what was happening post-Chernobyl and post Fukushima.
Franklin: What did that data show, as to contamination in humans?
McClellan: Well, it basically—key message out of that is if radioiodine is released in the event of a reactor accident, you really want to focus on what you can do to control it. You can control it multiple ways. One way is you simply take the cows off of any pasturage. You put them on the stored feed that doesn’t have radioiodine in it. And you make very certain that you simply stop the milk in that supply line. So in the case of Chernobyl, I was able to go to the Ukraine the fall after the Chernobyl accident and do some work there, reconstructing what was going on.
Franklin: Oh, wow.
McClellan: We could see—and I think has been subsequently borne out—in many areas the Soviets were very effective of limiting the exposure of populations. Part of that was cut off that contaminated milk supply. The other that came out of that was something we had a clue to, and that is that the stable iodine intake is very important. If an individual is in what we call a goitergenic diet, low on stable iodine, then they’re going to take up much more of the radioiodine and get a higher radiation dose, as well as, I think there’s a synergistic interaction between the goitergenic thyroid that low in terms of iodine intake, and it’s pushing to do its best, if you will, limited iodine. So that’s combination of living in an area that’s goiterogenic and being subjected to radioiodine is bad news.
Franklin: How would someone naturally have a low iodine intake?
McClellan: Well, very difficult in the USA—or in most advanced countries. Because one of the things we do is we introduce iodine in the flour.
Franklin: And what about iodized salt, also.
McClellan: Salt, yeah.
Franklin: Okay. So--
McClelland: Okay. But in certain areas, you know, in the Ukraine and Belarussia, at the time of the Chernobyl accident, things were not working well politically. Areas that had subsidized practices in terms of iodized salt, iodized flour—that was gone. They were reverting back to the old ways of flour being produced from wheat grown in these low iodine areas.
Franklin: So they’re bodies would have been much more naturally attuned to be grabbing that iodine and storing it?
McClellan: That’s right. Yeah, that’s exactly—
Franklin: Wow, that’s really fascinating.
McClellan: So the people most at risk were those people living in those goiterogenic areas. In fact, that pattern was well-studied in terms of people knowledgeable of thyroid and thyroid disease.
Franklin: So did you know this about—you knew this about the iodine, then, before Chernobyl happened and were able to identify it, or this came about as a result of Chernobyl?
McClellan: Well, what happened is Chernobyl kind of confirmed our fears, if you will. An individual by the name of Lester van Middlesworth at the Univeristy of Tennessee in Memphis was a major figure in studying thyroid and thyroid diseases. Leo Bustad and van Middlesworth were very good friends. I later became friends with van Middlesworth. He understood this, alerted him to this. In fact, our study that I referred to of radioiodine in cows—cows’ milk—we actually studied the influence in a small supplemental study of changing the iodine intake of the cows. So we knew—we understood that picture then. But it was after Chernobyl that, I think, Lester van Middlesworth was a key figure in pointing out these were the areas that were going to be at risk in the Ukraine, Russia, and Belarussia.
Franklin: Wow. The cows that were used for the study, were those cows—were those someone’s cows, or were they cows at the Hanford Labs?
McClellan: Oh, no, we purchased the cows. We purchased the cows at the open market. It was kind of fun. We actually had a much bigger experiment planned early on. We were going to grow and have the pastures and contaminate them and so on. But that was a multimillion dollar experiment to get shrunk down to something you could finally do. Kind of an interesting sideline is, as I told you, I came to Hanford as a summer student. I was fortunate that I fit into a program that was designed primarily for engineers. There were 100 individuals in the program in ’57. I think there were 95, 98 bona fide engineers. There was a graduate student from Wyoming and me, a veterinary medical student. But I had a—and Leo had an enthusiasm for bringing in students. So when I came back and was a permanent staff member, we regularly recruited students. So I can recall when we were planning the cow study, Leo and I had a set of resumes and applications in front of us. Leo pulled out one, and he said, I think this guy is really our guy. His name was Eugene Elafson. And I said, oh, I spotted him, Leo, and I knew you’d probably pick him out. He said, why is that? And I said, because he’s from Stanwood, Washington. That’s where you grew up! He’s another Scandinavian. And he said, oh, Roger, I knew you’d see through that. But remember, this guy grew up on a dairy farm. We need somebody to milk these cows this summer. [LAUGHTER] So we had Gene Olafson, who later was onto a very successful career in veterinary medicine. It was one of the students working with us that summer.
Franklin: How did you get the volunteers to ingest the milk? Did they know of—
McClellan: Oh, they knew that they were ingesting—in fact, they were all, as best I recall, the individuals were all professionals within the radiation protection unit at Hanford.
Franklin: Okay.
McClellan: So today, whether we would have allowed them to be subjects of their own experiment, I don’t know. But I want to assure you that the radiation doses they received were extraordinarily small.
Franklin: I was just curious.
McClellan: Yeah.
Franklin: You don’t hear about human subjects, generally, you know?
McClellan: Well, we went through a time period where there was a lot of attention given in terms of work done under the auspices of the Atomic Energy Commission and using radiation and radionuclides in human subjects. During that time period, this study was one which the people—by then, Battelle was operating the laboratories, but they had go to back and pull out all the records. I recall very well the day I received a call from an attorney with the General Electric Company and said, I’ve read your papers in which you’re a coauthor reporting these students with five volunteers at Hanford. What can you tell me about them? But turned out, our scientific papers published in the open peer reviewed literature were one of the best pieces of information that one could use to readily calculate the radiation exposure the individuals and show that it was what I would call de minimis.
Franklin: Okay. That’s really interesting. When did you finally retire? Or have you retired?
McClellan: I’m not really retired. I’ve transitioned. I think my career is one of Hanford and studies on ingested radionuclides. A very important part of Hanford that I think should be emphasized is we were involved in what I would call issue-resolving science. We were trying to develop science so that we could resolve issues, solve problems, create information that could protect workers, protect the environment. I’m concerned that we’ve, over the years, science has changed in many quarters. Now sometimes I accuse some of my fellow scientists of being engaged in issue of perpetuating science: can we keep this going until my career’s over, or my graduate students’ careers are over. And even sometimes a bit of, will this arouse enough concern on the part of the public that they’ll fund what I want to do? The year that I was involved at Hanford, it was issue resolving science. The problem, the issue, it wasn’t a random walk through the scientific thicket, trying to find something interesting.
Franklin: Why do you think that’s changed?
McClellan: Well, I think we always have tension, and sometimes the tension—we can simplify it by talking about basic versus applied science. I think that’s an artificial distinction on it. Some of the most basic, fundamental findings in science have been serendipitous findings that came out of applied science. I really am not an enthusiastic of the view that the best and the brightest can go into the laboratory and just sit down and they’ll have some great thoughts about what comes next. Some of this, I think, comes out of the high energy physics community, where there is a bit of that. I’m a strong believer, particularly in the use of public funds. That public funds should be used for science, in which we do have issues, and we want to obtain information that’s going to help us resolve those and use the science for the benefit of society. I think we sometimes get a little quite frankly maybe a little pompous as scientists that we know what the issues are and if the public would just listen to us more and give us more money, why, we’ll solve all the problems. That’s not really the way the world works. I think that science if a very vital part of the whole society. But it has to be a part of it, and it has to be interlocked and working with the other elements of society. I also think that many times we find scientists getting so wrapped up in their particular discipline that they fail to appreciate that most of these issues are so complex, they’re not solved by one scientist, one discipline. They’re really solved by a team of people. That becomes very challenging, because systems, in terms of reward, are not always designed to reward teams of people.
Franklin: Right.
McClellan: We focus on rewarding individuals. I would say, I think, at Hanford, in the time period that I had extensive involvement, there was a teamwork orientation and a balance of recognizing the value of the individual but the value of the individual contributing his part of the team to solve a problem.
Franklin: Do you think—do you feel, maybe, that the Cold War had an impact in how science was connected, or that kind of teamwork or purpose-driven science happened, especially in the period you’re talking about, in the early, the heightened tensions of the Cold War versus this kind of post-Cold War world?
McClellan: Well, I know there was a purpose. In terms of talking nationalistic.
Franklin: Right.
McClellan: I mean, we were in a war. But now we’re in a new war, the Cold War. We knew what the Soviets were doing; they knew what we were doing. I think there was a battle on—I think the other part of that that influences this is that if you go back to the tremendous contributions of science, in terms of World War II, to winning that war, and certainly in many different ways—but we can go into the whole issue of RADAR. Things were done in communication, things were done in aeronautics in terms of physiological suit design.
Franklin: And so on.
McClellan: Yeah. Development of antibiotics. All of that, the whole field of nuclear energy. My personal view is that nuclear energy has both benefited from those origins, but it’s also had a heavy burden to bear. [LAUGHTER] I can relate to the fact that I’m visiting here in Richland and I’m going to go to a football game, and that football game, my grandson’s going to be playing in one team from western Washington, and they’re going to be playing the Richland High School Bombers, and their symbol is a mushroom cloud.
Franklin: Proud of the cloud!
McClellan: Unfortunately, many people, when you talk about nuclear power and its role in meeting our societal energy needs, their first image is that mushroom cloud. Their second image is envisioning thousands of deaths in terms of people who were killed in the two atomic bombings in Japan. What they fail to appreciate is that in fact radiation is not very effective in terms of producing cancer. It is really a weak carcinogen. That being said it has a bad rap. It doesn’t get as much of a good rap, probably, as it should in terms of its value in diagnostic purposes in terms of human medicine, nor diagnostic purposes—treatment purposes in terms of ccancer. Radiation is still one of our most effective tools in terms of cancer treatment. But all of that is sort of overwhelmed in the public view. So I continue to be a very strong supporter, enthusiast, wearing my hat as a citizen, I think, with special knowledge of radiation, as to what we should be doing in terms of trying to meet our energy needs. I think nuclear power has a key role. We’ve amply demonstrated that we can handle it and control it. We have had serious accidents—Chernobyl, Fukushima—but I think we can also learn from those.
Franklin: Right. So I hate to—
McClellan: I think we’ve gone well over.
Franklin: We’ve gone for a bit. But I hate to [unknown] but I have an interview here in just a bit. But before you go, is there anything else we haven’t talked aobut that you would like to get off your chest?
McClellan: No. Well, there’s probably about another hour-and-a-half.
Franklin: Well, we’d—I’d be happy to schedule a follow-up interview with you. There’s still several questions that I haven’t asked you.
McClellan: Oh, I think there’s a whole area that we ought to go into. Because I think—I mean, I know I sound pompous, but—I think I know it probably better than anybody else. This would take us down the line of radio accidents, inhalation of radioactivity, workers and worker exposure. Really the basis for much of the work that Bill Bair and his colleagues did at Hanford. And then the work we did at Albuquerque, initially with fission product radionuclides and then with plutonium. And then worked on it at the University of Utah with injections of plutonium, strontium-90, radium, in the beagle dogs. And then the study at UC-Davis that involved ingested strontium-90 and injected radium in dogs, and that links back to the studies with miniature pigs here. Those studies collectively provide a major portion of our knowledge of internally deposited radionuclides. The part that’s fascinating out of that is when we look at our human experience, in terms of the USA, I think we can be extraordinarily pleased with the fact that we did have effective radiation protection programs that go back to Herb Parker. So if there were effects, injuries, they’re extraordinarily rare, very localized. On a collective basis, I think we—we have ample evidence—we did a good job. On the other hand, I tell you that we have evidence post-Cold War that Mayak, the Soviet, was a very different situation. In fact, we did the studies in dogs because we didn’t have human experience. And we never expected to get it. What it turned out is the Soviets at Mayak got the experience that we never thought we would see and we never wanted to see. Their human subjects, accidentally exposed, demonstrated that our dogs were great models; i.e., workers at Mayak were exposed at levels that did produce an excess of lung cancer, an excess of liver cancer, an excess of bone cancer. The lung cancers and liver cancers were really remarkably predicted from the dog data.
Franklin: Wow.
McClellan: Once you took into account two factors—one major. The dogs were clean living. They didn’t smoke, and they didn’t drink. Smoking does cause lung cancer.
Franklin: Yeah, it does.
McClellan: And some plutonium exposure adds to that. Drinking in huge quantities can cause liver damage, and liver cancer. Exposure to plutonium increases it further.
Franklin: Interesting. Well, that was great. And I would love to—we’d love to—
McClellan: So we’ll figure out some other time when we can continue into these others. Then after you’ve looked at what you’ve got here and how much of it’s useable—
Franklin: Oh, there’s a lot of it. Thank you so much. That was great. And I had a great time.
McClellan: Well, my pleasure.
View interview on Youtube.
Robert Franklin: Okay. My name is Robert Franklin. I am conducting an oral history interview with Robert Ferguson on December 21st, 2016. The interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. I will be talking with Bob about his experiences working at the Hanford Site. And for the record, can you state and spell your full name for us?
Bob Ferguson: Yes. Robert, R-O-B-E-R-T. Louis, L-O-U-I-S. Ferguson, F-E-R-G-U-S-O-N.
Franklin: Great, thanks. So tell me how and why you came to the area to work at the Hanford Site.
Ferguson: Well, I was in the Army. I had spent three years in the Army and I was at White Sands Missile Range in New Mexico. And a friend of mine stopped by that was sort of at the end of my obligation, and his father had worked here. His name was Fred Boleros. And he told me about GE here at Hanford. So, it was my first job when I applied when I left the Army, was with GE at Hanford. They accepted my application, and that’s how I happened to come to Hanford.
Franklin: Okay. And what was the job that you applied for?
Ferguson: Well, I came under a program called the—[LAUGHTER]—bear with me.
Franklin: That’s okay.
Ferguson: Can you cut, can we cut, or you’ll cut?
Franklin: We can edit.
Ferguson: We’ll edit?
Franklin: After the fact, yes.
Ferguson: Okay.
Emma Rice: Tech grad something?
Ferguson: Yeah. The tech grad program. It was the tech grad program. It was a program to—for GE to find out what your interest was as well as their interest in you. So, anyway, I signed up for that, and I had three assignments with that. One in operation, one in reactor physics, and one in radiation testing. My permanent job—my first permanent job with GE was as a reactor physicist at C Reactor. But we did physics work—at each of the reactors, there was an onsite physicist and an onsite engineer. We rotated to all of the different eight reactors in the course of our assignments during relief work. But I was permanently assigned to C Reactor—C Reactor Physicist.
Franklin: C Reactor?
Ferguson: C Reactor.
Franklin: Okay, and where is that located in relation to B, D and F?
Ferguson: Well, as you probably know, the first reactors were B, D and F. And then HDR and then H, and then C Reactor in K-East and K-West. So C Reactor was one of the newer reactors, before the K-East and K-West design. And it was collocated with B Reactor in what was called the BC Area. They were right next door to each other.
Franklin: Okay. And was that based off of the same design as the B Reactor?
Ferguson: It was a different design. Higher power level and a little different fuel design. And because it had a higher power level, it had also a higher flow rate.
Franklin: Of water?
Ferguson: Of water, right.
Franklin: Great. And how long did you work as a reactor operator?
Ferguson: Physicist.
Franklin: Reactor physicist, sorry.
Ferguson: Right. Well, actually I was asked—I guess because of my interest in operation—I was asked by GE management to go into their management program, which was an accelerated management program. And so that took me into operations. And so to accelerate the learning process, they had a school in the evening that they sent us to. But also, we had supplemental crews. For each of the shifts, there was a supplemental crew that went from each of the reactors, in the case of outages or in the case of startups, where they needed extra people. So you learned in the supplemental crews, all of the operation of all of the reactors in a very short period of time. So from there, then, I was assigned as a shift supervisor at B Reactor. So I was an operating supervisor at B Reactor. In fact, I was the youngest of shift supervisor that GE had at the time.
Franklin: Oh, wow. Where were the classes held for the management program?
Ferguson: Well, there were two kinds of classes. There were—WSU had—actually there were—WSU and some of the other western universities had a program here. But they were technical programs, and then GE in the same facilities, in what—the old barracks area, near where the DOE headquarters is now, the RL headquarters, in that area. But they no longer exist. They were in huts.
Franklin: Oh, okay, Quonset huts.
Ferguson: Quonset huts, yeah, yeah.
Franklin: World War II—
Ferguson: Right.
Franklin: Had you gone through any other—before you took the tech grad program with GE, had you had any training in nuclear physics or anything?
Ferguson: Well, I had a degree in physics, and I’d also spent a year at Redstone Arsenal at Huntsville, Alabama in guided missiles. So, there was a lot of related work in the guided missile field to the nuclear field as well.
Franklin: And were you in the Army because of the Korean War?
Ferguson: No, I went into the Army from—I was graduated. Went to Gonzaga University and graduated in ROTC, and had a commission. And because I signed up for the guided missile program, I had a three-year commitment then, rather than just two years of active duty.
Franklin: Okay.
Ferguson: But it was—we were on alert in my junior year of the Korean War. And then the Korean War, fortunately, was over in my last year. So, I was able to miss that.
Franklin: Yeah. Can you describe the B Reactor as a place to work?
Ferguson: Well, it was—actually, a fascinating facility. I don’t know, perhaps, if you’ve been there.
Franklin: I’ve been able to take the public tours.
Ferguson: But the operation of the reactors were fascinating. You can picture that there’s eight reactors operating 24/7, seven days a week. At that time, there was pressure for more plutonium for the Cold War. It was during that period of time when there was a lot of tension with Russia. It preceded, actually, the Cuban Missile Crisis by a few years. But anyway, there was intense pressure for production, so we were—GE was very sensitive about the time operating efficiency of the reactors and the power level of the reactors. B Reactor, when it was first designed was designed for 250 megawatts. And when I was last in the control room, we were operating over 2,000 megawatts. We used to—in order to get more power, we used to—Bonneville would lower water from under the dams so our inlet temperature was lower. The operation of the reactors—they went once through the reactors, and so they had to keep the outlet temperature below boiling. And so you wanted the maximum delta t across the reactor, you could get so the lower the inlet temperature, the higher the power level you could get, maintaining a safe margin in the outlet temperature. But also at that time, we were experimenting—I participated both in the physics side as well as the operations side—in the use of flattening of the pile. And by flattening, I mean flattening the flux so you could get more power level, or better distribution and more production, in any one cycle. And so we used—we experimented with splines, which were boron designed things that would go under the process tubes, and you could jack them in actually from the front face of the reactor in order to flatten the flux of the reactors. We also did poisoning at that time of the reactor. A temporary poisoning, so we could start the reactors up at a higher power level. Because the operation of the reactors was very complicated, because you had different temperature coefficients that affected the reactivity of the reactor. So you had a positive graphite temperature, but that was—the graphite would heat up over time. And so that would increase the reactivity, and you had a negative temperature coefficient—fast reactor coefficient. And then the coefficients would change as the amount of plutonium occurred in the reactor. And so the operation of the reactors were really dictated by the design coefficients, but, more importantly, by the discovery of xenon and iodine, which shut the reactors down when Fermi was here. That was—they didn’t even know about the xenon absorption of neutrons at that time. And so when the reactor was first started, it shut down. And they had originally—perhaps you’ve heard this story, that originally the reactor was designed for about 1,500 process tubes. But then DuPont doubled it to 2,004 in order to—for safety margins—and they needed all of that safety margins to override the xenon. But anyway, when you’re at steady state operation, and then you shut the reactor down, then the buildup of iodine that then decays into xenon, and xenon is a poison. So if you were operating at full power and the reactor scrammed, you had a very short period of time in order to bring the reactor up to power level. Otherwise, you were down for 30-hour outage. So that meant that you lost production during that period. So we basically devised what we called quickie plans. This was especially true—we were experiencing a lot of ruptures at that time because we were pushing the envelope of the design of the fuel. It would rupture, and then we’d have to get rid of that, because they’d been once through on the water, the radioactive material would go directly into the river. So anyway, when we had a rupture, we would need to get it out of the reactor. But you only had a few minutes. At that time because of the power levels we were operating at, we only had about 15 minutes to recover. And that meant planning a crew in the rear and the front, and alerting the people in the powerhouse, because you had to bring the water pressure down. But you had to keep plenty of water on the tubes, because otherwise the temperature—outlet temperature would be very high. So you had a very difficult time to valve on the front. So I would go—I would basically stay in the control room and have a supervisor in the front and rear. And then when we shut the reactor down, we would do all of this valving, kick the rupture out, and then restart. And you’d have to restart the reactors to about two-thirds of the power that you were at, otherwise you’d go sub-critical, and you’d be down. So it was a very delicate challenge to start it up to a power level that you could—without running out of rods, then, because also the higher power level, the more reactivity you had. So, it was a—it’s something that I learned in physics, because that’s what the physicist did. He calculated all these transients. So when I went into operations, it was sort of natural for me to be able to manage this kind of thing.
Franklin: Interesting. And so—that’s also, like, kind of real-world application of all of that physics that you had learned, right?
Ferguson: Right.
Franklin: How did—I think it’s hard for people who—especially younger people—to imagine doing all of that without digital technology. It’s always been something that’s really fascinated me. And I’m wondering if you could speak to that or if you’ve ever thought about that at all, that the kinds of—maybe you could talk a little bit about the kinds of equipment you had to work with, and the limitations of using the analog readouts in the control room.
Ferguson: Well, that’s a very good question. The reactors had to be operated when you started them up—what we called a blind startup, because we didn’t have instruments that told us how subcritical we were. So, you had to—the physicist would calculate the reactivity coefficients for the operation, and depending upon the precursor operation, would determine exactly what the startup conditions were. But because we couldn’t measure the subcritical condition of the reactor, we had—we pulled to about—well, it’s called 100n hours subcritical, then pulled into that. But we had people at a PC manually, if you can imagine, manually counting the count rate as we approached criticality. Because if you pull too many rods out, you can get into a fast period, which will shut you down. So we had to do all this manually. And you probably, having seen the control room—you had 2,004 process tubes. Each one of those tubes was monitored for pressure on the inlet and temperature on the outlet. But those gauges had to be manually moved and adjusted by a crew in the front of that panel—the panellette, that whole 2,004 panel in the control room, right to the right of the control panel. Anyway, you had a whole group of people on startup in ladder-like things that would roll those gauges, instrument man on the rear, but he had to keep the gauges within a range, or you’d trip. So as the water pressure came up, you had to roll all of those. But this was all done manually. And then we had ways of—we had devices that calculated the power level, but it was very deceptive. So those of us that had been trained in physics could basically do a lot of those calculations in our head on the power level. Because what I’ve experienced—I’m sure others did, too—that if an instrument failed, say a flow instrument failed on one side of the reactor, it would indicate you’re only at half of the power level that you’re actually at. So you needed to look at other instruments, and you learned to look—like there was an instrument called a Beckman instrument, which monitored the radioactivity on the rear face. So by walking the control room and looking at all these different instruments, you could check one against the other. But it was all very, very, very, manual. And we did our physics calculations on Marchant calculators, you know, the calculators you punch.
Franklin: Oh, yeah, yeah. [LAUGHTER]
Ferguson: We did all our physics calculations on those at that time. And they were just introducing the IBM 650. GE had a computing facility where we would punch the cards and get some central computing for some of the physics work that we did. And that’s also where they kept track of the production in the reactors. If you could imagine keeping track of eight reactors with 2,004 tubes—there were more than that in the K reactors—but the six older reactors. And keeping the production in each one of those tubes was a function of the flow through that tube and the reactivity and the temperature of each one of those tubes. So you had to keep track of how much plutonium was being produced, because if you leave the fuel in too long, the buildup of plutonium-240 builds up. And so weapons-grade plutonium is about 6% to 10%. So we were operating at getting really pure weapons-grade plutonium. Something below the—at least 10% of 240, because it was—in the early design of the bombs, they found that if plutonium-240 spontaneously fissions, it creates a background. And if it’s too high, it’ll get a premature detonation of the bomb beforehand. So that’s why we had to manage the production. And that’s why there were frequent shutdowns. Unlike commercial reactors, where you operate a long time. And that’s why people confuse—plutonium that’s produced in commercial reactors has a high 240 content which is not good for weapons.
Franklin: Oh, interesting, okay. So you’re saying—I just want to paraphrase so that I can make sure I understand. So you’re saying that it was the nature of the weapons process that the fuel would only be in there for a short period of time in order to get—and it’s plutonium-240—which one is the--
Ferguson: Is low. 239 is the weapons grade.
Franklin: 239 is the weapons-grade.
Ferguson: And 240 is the low grade.
Franklin: Right, so that you wouldn’t build up too much 240. So—
Ferguson: And that required a frequent charge and discharge of the reactors.
Franklin: Right, so in some way, then, the energy reactors by nature are just not really meant for weapons.
Ferguson: They’re the opposite of that. You want them to run. The Energy Northwest reactor which I was responsible for building—it was called BNP2 at the time. But they recently set a record of running for over two years without a shutdown.
Franklin: Because you also want—when you’re producing energy, you want a reliable output of energy—
Ferguson: Right, fixed, right.
Franklin: You don’t want to be starting and stopping and have that kind of fluctuation in the grid.
Ferguson: Right.
Franklin: That’s really—I think that’s a good basic point to have established for anyone who’s doing research on that.
Ferguson: But an interesting subset of your question about instrumentation. Rickover, in the nuclear navy, who relied on analog instrumentation and ways of measuring things. Because he wanted people to really run the reactor all the time. He didn’t want any risk of that. So it was a transitional period in the nuclear business. And some of the instrumentation that was designed to detect neutrons was very new at the time. Even the badges that we wore, at that time, did not detect neutrons, both fast and slow. And so we had to do experiments on the front face of the reactors to be able to predict what dosage you’d get from neutrons, rather than alpha, beta, and gamma. Because it was not known then exactly the biological effect of neutrons on the human body.
Franklin: Given that the reactors ran, most of the time they had 24-hour shifts, I’m wondering if you can describe to me kind of an average day as a nuclear physicist operating the B Reactor.
Ferguson: Well, it depends—well, let me answer that by, when you—at that time, you couldn’t drive your car out to the Site. So you came to the 700 Area, and there was a—lights up there that indicated which reactors were running. And that told you, if you were a supplemental crew, which reactor to go to. But anyway, to answer your question, if the reactor is operating normally at full power, it’s very—typically, you’d go in and you had about a 15- to 20-minute transfer process from one crew to the other. We kept a detailed log of the activities during our shift. You’d do a—we would typically do a count of the uranium slugs that were stored in the front face so that we’d keep materials accountability. So we would make sure that from shift to shift, there was a transfer of accountability for the slugs that were there. There was a transfer of any ongoing activity that would be taking place. But during normal operation, we had two operators in the control room and then a chief operator. And then the other operators would be picking fuel up out of the basins. That was all done by hand. If you’ve seen the reactor, the fuel would come out, go down in chutes. But all of those fuel elements had to be picked up by hand through the water—through 20 feet of water, put in the buckets, and then those buckets would be transferred under water over to a station where the railcar would come in from the 200 Area, all underwater. And then that bucket that contained the radioactive slugs would be, then, taken by railcar over to the 200 Area where it would be reprocessed. So, that—typically, then, you’d do maintenance work that could be done when the reactor was running. And then you had a daily routine of walking through the whole reactor. It’s very interesting; you could—Robert, you could tell, after you’d been there for a while, by the sounds if things were okay. If there was a shrill sound where the water pressure coming through, the water flowing through the reactors, and all of the different fans had different sounds. So you walked the reactor—always walked, went to the rear—in the rear of the building is a little place with a lead glass shield that you could look through to see the rear face. So you’d check the rear face for any anomalies, for leakage, or anything like that. And then you’d have your—we always had a health physicist on each shift. He had his rounds to check on the radiation levels in different areas. And different areas were controlled depending on whether there was radioactive material or contamination in the area. We had step-off pads, where you’d go from one area to another. Dual step-off pads, if you had a highly contaminated area. And the people—some of the crew would sort laundry as well. Because we went through a lot of laundry, because you had to change into what we called SWPs, special material when you came on shift. So anyway that would be rather routine. Now, during an outage, or during a startup, then you have a beehive of activity. The place that we—the shift supervisor had total control and authority over the running of the reactor. So even the manager and other people that were there for startup, they would have to leave, because of the intensity of the operation during startup. So, if it were an outage, you went into—you were doing charge/discharge. So you have a front face crew and a rear face crew, and you’re doing a lot of physical work. The charging machines would—you’d have to load them up by hand—load the slugs by hand. So it was—it’s hard to explain the level of activity that was going on during an outage. Because we would have maintenance. We would have some maintenance on the process tubes that had to be removed because they were leaking. So we’d have to—the maintenance people would come in and remove those. So it was very, very, very—it’s like a huge manufacturing operation.
Franklin: Right.
Ferguson: But a lot by hand. So the dichotomy between—you’ve got a very sophisticated—you get no sound from the reactor itself but a lot of sound from everything that runs the reactor.
Franklin: The water and the electronics and everything.
Ferguson: Right. And the reactors were cooled by—inerted by gas by helium and carbon dioxide. And so one of the auxiliary rooms was a place where you controlled mixture of the helium and carbon dioxide in the atmosphere of the reactor. Because you could change the reactivity by changing the temperature of the graphite. You could heat it up with CO2 and cool it off with helium.
Franklin: Interesting. So how long did you work as a reactor physicist—nuclear physicist and shift operator?
Ferguson: Well, nominally about two years as a physicist and about two years as an operating supervisor. So it was about 50/50 while I was here. I’ll tell you, interesting story. Probably we don’t want to put it on television, but—on September 27th, 1960, I was—it was a Tuesday, and I was starting the reactor up. And I got a call that my wife’s water had broken and she was on the way to the Kadlec Hospital to deliver our second girl. So it was the first time in history a reactor went critical the same time a woman went critical. [LAUGHTER] I could tell you exactly where I was standing in that reactor out there when that happened. I’ll always remember that. And Kadlec Hospital at that time was just Quonset huts, as well.
Franklin: Right, yeah, wow. Thanks for sharing. [LAUGHTER] Where did you—I’m assuming you guys lived in Richland while you worked out at Site, right?
Ferguson: Right, yeah.
Franklin: And so you lived in Richland during—so you would have lived in Richland, then, while it was a government town and then also during the transition.
Ferguson: When we first came here, the government owned the town, and we lived in a B—I was going to say B Reactor. [LAUGHTER] Okay. We lived on Kimball—1524 Kimball in a duplex.
Franklin: Okay.
Ferguson: And then the second home here was a ranch house. But then, while we were there they sold. And when we were first here, GE provided coal. We had coal for our heat and lightbulbs. Those were all provided. I think we paid $47 a month rent at that time. And then the town was sold off. And our neighbors had the right to buy the B house.
Franklin: Because they had been there longer than you?
Ferguson: They were one of the original occupants. And so then we rented from them. So we were here during that transition.
Franklin: Can you describe that transition? What you remember, or your thoughts on it?
Ferguson: Well, it was very interesting. When we first came here, there was—and one of the reasons that the road system is the way it is is because of the security in the town. There was only one road in at the time and one road out. And that’s the way—you had to be cleared in order to live and work in Richland during that time. And so we—you know, we had a bus system that picked us up. We had a—during that time as well, those of us that worked in radiation levels, every month we’d have our urine sampled. And so the people that worked there set their bottle out by the front door to be picked up and monitored. So then as the town—after the town was sold off, then, there was more interest in changing the—upgrading the buildings, painting, and more things like that. So you could see the evolution from a government-owned town to private ownership. More and more attention to yards and things like that. So we—my wife and I—my family experienced that transition. And we left—came here in 1957. I left here in ‘61 to go to Argonne. And then we came back in 1972, and the town had totally changed, then. When we came back, we looked at a couple of houses in Meadow Springs and the realtor told us it would be pretty iffy to buy there, because that may not go. And there was a dirt road at that time between that and Columbia Center. Columbia Center didn’t exist when we were first here. We came back, and here’s Columbia Center. So having left here and come back, we’ve seen this transformation of the Tri-Cities. Rather remarkable.
Franklin: Right. And how come you left Richland in ’61?
Ferguson: Well, actually I was in the control room of B Reactor when we heard about an accident in Idaho called the SL-1 accident.
Franklin: I’ve heard about that.
Ferguson: It was a military accident that killed three military people. Anyway, it’s kind of a long story, but I’ll make it pretty short. Part of the accident investigation indicated that there was no one AEC organization responsible. The reactor was designed at Argonne in Chicago at Argonne National Lab, but built and operated by the Army at Idaho. And they Idaho office wasn’t responsible; Chicago wasn’t responsible for making sure. So anyway, I was recruited by AEC to go to work up with the AEC to set up the safety program for what was then called the Second Round reactors. These were commercial reactors that were built to encourage the development—commercial development of nuclear power. But Argonne had a lot of reactors at the time, both at Idaho, as well as at Argonne. Both thermal reactors, research reactors and fast reactors. And so anyway, I was recruited because they were looking for people with actual physics and operations experience to work in safety. And so, shortly after I was there, I was sent to Oak Ridge School of Reactor Technology for an accelerated program in state-of-the-art safety. But then we—anyway, then we did a review of all the reactors under Chicago. And those were reactors at Idaho, reactors at Santa Susana in California, Atomics International reactors. And then we had commercial reactors at Piqua, Ohio and Hallam, Nebraska. And—oh, there were two other ones, anyway, that were funded by the AEC, but privately owned. But the safety responsibility was the AEC. So anyway I went back there because of the emergence of the need for people with actual operating experience. There were only two places: that was Savannah River and here at Hanford.
Franklin: Right. And up until that time, you had not worked with commercial reactors; you’d only worked on production.
Ferguson: Yeah, there were no—no, that’s correct.
Franklin: So can you describe that transition? How was that for you? Even though you would have had operating experience, like we talked about earlier, the operation of the commercial reactor is almost opposite. The purposes are very different. And so I’m wondering if you can describe that transition.
Ferguson: Well, it’s also a cultural transition. And one of the difficulties in the development of commercial nuclear power was because of this cultural issue. Some of the utilities were oversold on the ease with which nuclear power could be used to produce electricity. And so they didn’t understand the need for the training and the quality assurance and the rigorous of operation. And that led to some accidents in the early days, because the utilities really were not sensitive to that. Admiral Rickover was even worried that the private sector, the commercial sector, was not able to manage nuclear. And he was afraid that they would have accidents. And that’s why he built and operated Shippingport, which was one of the first commercial reactors, but it was built by the Navy. But anyway, it was a cultural change. And after the SL-1 accident, it was really a wakeup call even within the AEC for the need for rigorous oversight, rigorous design review, design construction, and operation. The need for safety at all of those areas from the time you procure a piece of equipment, to its built, to its put in operation, and then maintained. All of that was new to the industry. So I actually lived through that transition, I guess, if you would call it that. Because GE was—and DuPont were very rigorous in their safety. Very rigorous. Because people didn’t really know much about nuclear power at that time, or nuclear energy.
Franklin: So you’re saying some of that safety-consciousness kind of came over from the folks involved in production, who then went on to commercial.
Ferguson: Right.
Franklin: I’ve—when talking to people similar to yourself who’ve been in the industry, very familiar with nuclear production and power, I’ve often heard that the nuclear industry is one of the most tightly regulated and safe industries, or focused with safety. And I’m wondering how you feel about that statement, how you would respond to that.
Ferguson: Well, it is, because of the potential or the risk. Even though the commercial, there has been no deaths in the commercial nuclear industry in the United States, the potential is there as well. I can just give you a little feel for that. Three Mile Island was a very bad accident, but nobody was hurt. I was there. I was—fifth day of the accident, I was in the control room of Three Mile Island. It was really a bad accident, but nobody got hurt. On the other hand, I was at Chernobyl after that accident. That was a very, very bad accident. A lot of people were killed in that accident. People don’t really understand that—going back to your question about the rigorous safety requirements—Russia did not have a requirement for containment for their reactors. So, Chernobyl had no containment. You couldn’t build and operate that kind of a reactor in the United States. So, one of the issues that emerges from the rigorous safety criteria is the difficulty in transition to new instrumentation, for instance. Because you had very prescriptive regulatory requirements, it was more difficult, basically, to introduce new design, new equipment. And it’s one of the difficulties of the nuclear industry, unlike cars where you’re changing them often, it’s very expensive to build one. And then it’s hard, as innovation and changes take place, it’s hard to introduce those in the course of the licensing. So our licensing system has changed somewhat. You used to have to have two permits for commercial reactor. A permit to build it, and then another permit to operate it. Now those are combined into one, because you wouldn’t want to spend all the money to build a reactor and then not be able to run it. And for the antinuclear community, they used that as a way to stop the operation—or the startup of a lot of reactors. That caused a lot of expense, too. So anyway, it’s been a dynamic change, but not as rapid as your iPhone and changes like that, which can be made very quickly.
Franklin: Wow, thank you. Really illuminating. I really like that you mention that there was a cultural transition into the commercial reactor, and I assume, there, you’re talking about dealing with utility companies, but I’m also wondering, was there—did you also work with—because you mentioned fast reactors. Did you also work with scientists and people from the university side of operations when you moved into commercial power?
Ferguson: Oh, yes.
Franklin: And was that also part of the cultural shift?
Ferguson: Well, for instance, going into Argonne—Argonne was where the nuclear technology started. I mean, Argonne came from Fermi’s work in Chicago, basically. All of those scientists went to work at Argonne. And they didn’t like to be—scientists don’t like to be regulated or overseen. And so that’s the reason that the reactor—many of the reactors that Argonne worked with were put in Idaho, in a remote area, where you could do a lot of experimentation away from a big city. So that’s where the series of reactors called the BORAX Reactors, where you could actually explode them—pull into a fast period and cause a prompt critical. But you could do that in Idaho because it was so remote. But anyway, it was always a certain amount of tension between research. And one of the current issues right now, there is so much regulation in commercial reactors, it’s hard to introduce any new technology. For instance, Bill Gates is investing in a reactor being designed in China. And he would do that here, but he went to the NRC and it’d take him 24 years to get a permit just to build it here. So, the rigorous licensing process also inhibits development of new technologies. And we don’t really today have a good answer for that. We need to have an intermediate step where you can work on new reactor designs that are not ready for commercial operation yet but need to be run. Because unless you can do experimental work, you can’t develop anything new.
Franklin: But that experimental work is held up by the regulations—
Ferguson: Of the regulations, right.
Franklin: Do you think the public has an inadequate understanding of nuclear technology in general, and nuclear power specifically?
Ferguson: Well, there’s a lot of work has been done with respect to why people fear nuclear which is really very safe, statistically. The probability of being hurt by a nuclear accident is essentially zero. Yet, people will get in their car and they’ll drive their car. So there’s a lot of psychological fear. And a lot of that fear, we think, comes from the use of nuclear technology for Hiroshima and Nagasaki. In other words, the notion of equating weapons with nuclear power. And that has continued to this day, because many people don’t understand here at Hanford the difference between commercial waste and waste from both the Second World War and the Cold War. It’s a very different issue, but people think of it all as one. And one of the problems is that with the evolution of the organization that manages that. I mean, I worked, when I was head of the FFTF project, I worked for the AEC, I worked for ERDA, and I worked for the Atomic Energy Commission in the same job. And so you can understand then. And that—the weapons program is still in the Department of Energy. I’m a big advocate of removing it, because—and removing the waste from the commercial—to create a separation. As long as they’re managed together, how do you expect the average person to believe that they’re not one in the same thing? Or that the issues are not one in the same thing. So that fear of nuclear is real. And there’s been a lot of work done about why people fear it when it is not really unsafe. And generally you find that the people that work with nuclear are very comfortable with it. And the farther away you get, the more fear there is. For instance, here at Hanford, people are very used to working with it. We have clean water. You go over to Seattle, they want to tell us how to—why to be afraid here at Hanford. Well, we live here. We drink the water, we eat the fish. We’re not fearful of it, because we’ve lived with it. We know it. So a lot of that is proximity.
Franklin: Yeah, thank you, I appreciate you expanding on that. It does give it a troubled reputation, doesn’t it? Since the birth of nuclear energy is related to death and bombings and then was a very visible part of our very large stockpile of nuclear weapons.
Ferguson: And it still is a threat with the proliferation. And it’s a huge threat.
Franklin: And to have a peaceful arm of that, though, I think to some people maybe they confuse both heads of that same—
Ferguson: That’s not unnatural that they would do that. The other thing that’s happened, you know, we had—Three Mile Island happened right after Jane Fonda’s movie, The China Syndrome. And then we had Chernobyl. And then we had the accident in Japan. So these big accidents get a lot of publicity. And there’s a lot of fear that comes from the reporting of that, which isn’t always accurate. Because the nature of reporting is to make things dramatic. And so it gets dramatized in the public. So it probably will take generations to—people to address that.
Franklin: Right. Because certainly our current—where we get our current energy from is also a problematic source of energy, in terms of its political and human and environmental costs.
Ferguson: Right. The irony is that 20%, nominally, 20% of our electricity comes from nuclear. 70% of the carbon-free generation—70% comes from nuclear. And so there is no way the country can ever meet its goal of carbon emissions without a greater use of nuclear power. Because solar and wind are both intermittent. You can’t store them. For instance, if you had to rely on them during the cold weather we just had—we had no sun, it was cold. Where would you get your energy? Where would you get your energy? And the other thing that people really don’t understand is that both wind and solar are nuclear energy. Their source is nuclear energy from the sun. The sun—and the earth gets all of its energy from radiation from the sun. Yet people don’t think of that radiation as bad radiation. They think of that as good radiation. And other radiation, from nuclear power, is bad radiation.
Franklin: Interesting, I don’t think I ever thought of it quite like that before. But it’s very true.
Ferguson: All of the weather comes from absorption of energy from the sun in the oceans, creates the wind, picks up the moisture, delivers it. That’s where we get our hydro power. Solar power—all of that is nuclear energy from the sun. The sun is our source of nuclear energy.
Franklin: Well, even in a way then oil is also from the sun, because it’s decomposed carbon matter—
Ferguson: Originally—
Franklin: Originally.
Ferguson: No, really, it preceded the sun in the sense that it was a part of matter when it was created at the Big Bang.
Franklin: True. So I’d like to go back—tell me about coming back to Richland to work on the FFTF. What brought you back from Argonne to Hanford?
Ferguson: Well, the people—the assistant manager at Argonne for the AEC I had worked with there—and he became the manager of the Richland Operations Office. And then another fellow I had worked with there, Alex Fremling, became his deputy. And so they asked me to come back. They were having a lot of difficulty with the management of the contracts here. And I’d had a lot of experience in project management at Argonne in both high energy physics and reactor projects, and a lot of experience in contracting. So anyway, I came back and I was originally head of contracts. And then shortly after that I was made technical director for the Site. That was at a period when—or at a time, in 1972, when 106-T leak occurred. That was the 105,000-gallon leak that really was the first major leak of radioactive material from the tanks. And it’s the first time the public then became aware of the real problem here at Hanford. And so I was on the investigating committee for that event. And we went back to—Dixy Lee Ray was Chairman of the Atomic Energy Commission and then subsequently our governor. But we asked for a supplemental appropriation--$20 million supplemental appropriation to start building double-shell tanks. So that’s when we started building the double-shell tanks, thinking that there would be a solution fairly soon. And I can take you all the way back to when I was with GE, I did some—one of my jobs there, I measured some—the radiation level in some of the tanks, because as early as that time, GE was concerned about leaking tanks. Because the radioactive material in the tanks stratifies. The radiation level is different and it creates a temperature stress in the tanks. So we were—as early as then, we were worried about tanks leaking. Now—that was 1958, ’59. Here we are in 2016 and we’ve got leaky tanks and no solution. [LAUGHTER] Not much progress.
Franklin: Sadly no.
Ferguson: Anyway then FFTF was in trouble from a cost and schedule standpoint. So I was asked to set up the FFTF Project Office. And the manager of Richland went back to Washington, and he became head of nuclear energy in Washington. His deputy became manager here—Alex Fremling became manager here and so they—we’d all worked together. And so they asked me to set up the FFTF Project Office.
Franklin: Okay.
Ferguson: And that’s when—in 1973—I stayed here until 1978 and then Jim Schlesinger, the chairman of—Secretary of Energy for DOE asked me to go back and take over the nuclear program in Washington.
Franklin: And what do you feel like you got accomplished from ’73 to ’78 on the FFTF Project Office?
Ferguson: We built the most remarkable fast reactor test facilities that’s ever been built. At the time that I was asked to take it over, there was a member of the—Bill Anders—who was the astronaut that went around the moon the first time. Anyway, he was a member of the AEC. But he helped me get the project office set up based on the way NASA set up their offices: decentralized. But he told me that the FFTF was far more difficult technical job than putting a man on the moon. So the development of the technology that we developed and demonstrated with FFTF was really incredible. And a lot of that technology’s now being given to Japan—to China—for their new development program. A lot of the sodium technology, the fast reactor technology. So we accomplished a lot. But it didn’t—and then it got killed. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Right, right, it did. I wonder if you could talk about that. What happened to the FFTF?
Ferguson: Well, at the time FFTF was built, the policy of the United States and the Atomic Energy Commission was to reprocess and have breeder reactors. And so that you would take the fuel from commercial reactors, reprocess it, take the plutonium out of it, use that plutonium for fuel for fast reactors. So essentially, by using fast reactors, you have basically an unlimited supply of energy. So that was the policy when FFTF was built. Clinch River was to be a commercial demonstration plant at Clinch River in Tennessee. Clinch River was killed when Carter came in. Carter killed the breeder program because he thought that—first of all, he didn’t think nuclear was going to be here to stay, and he didn’t want to—thought reprocessing would facilitate the spread of nuclear weapons around the world. Because when you do reprocess, you can use that same technology to extract plutonium for weapons. So it was killed for that reason. And Carter was pushing coal at the time, saying we had, essentially, an abundant supply of coal. And so he thought that nuclear really wasn’t going to—it was a last resort, as he put it. Because of our lack of reprocessing, we have influenced the design of Yucca Mountain for the deep geologic storage. Because at the time that the Nuclear Waste Policy Act in 1982 was set up, there was a conflict between those that wanted to reprocess and those that didn’t want to reprocess. So Yucca Mountain is designed for retrievability. It’s designed for permanent storage of defense waste, but retrievability of commercial waste. So at some date in the future, it could be reprocessed. Because about 90% of the energy value is still in fuel once it’s discharged from a commercial reactor. So anyway, that decision has affected a lot of subsequent issues that the country has faced.
Franklin: How come the program didn’t come back under Reagan?
Ferguson: Well, in January of 1982, I was asked to participate in a—that’s when Reagan was president, and George Bush, Sr. was his vice president. And he called a meeting that I was invited to, to discuss what was going on in nuclear at that time. And at the time, I was head of WPPSS. And the cost estimate—this was post-Three-Mile Island. The cost estimate for plants was going up, they were having delays. And so Reagan called this meeting from executives to find out what could be done with nuclear. Well, as a result of that meeting, then, we were instrumental in getting the Nuclear Waste Policy Act started which he then proposed as a way of dealing with commercial nuclear fuel. Because up until that time, there was no solution to commercial nuclear fuel. So—and there still isn’t.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Ferguson: There still isn’t. Because Obama killed—or tried to kill the Yucca Mountain project. But we stopped him from doing that. I was one of the principals—law suit that the courts ruled that he didn’t have the authority to do that. But he stopped it. So now there is no solution, yet, to what to do with commercial fuel. So commercial fuel is now stored all over the United States at all of the reactors.
Franklin: Right, right. How did you become involved with the WPPSS project?
Ferguson: Well, I was recruited out of Washington.
Franklin: So you’re just back and forth from here to Washington and then back.
Ferguson: Well, people that had known about my success in building FFTF and turning that around—and it turns out Senator Jackson was one of those. And so when I was recruited, I’d been in the government 20 years, and I was still pretty young. I didn’t want to leave the government, because I had no retirement. I wasn’t old enough to retire. Anyway, Senator Jackson told me that if I would come out and solve the WPPSS problem, he would make sure I got back in the government. Well, a long story short, I came out and I did solve, I think, the WPPSS problem. But I also had open heart surgery and ruined my health and then Senator Jackson died. So I never went back into the government. He died and I never had a pension. So—[LAUGHTER] so that’s what WPPSS did to me! But anyway, I was recruited—going back to your question—there was a national recruitment because of the difficulties WPPSS was having building the plants.
Franklin: And how long did you work at WPPSS for?
Ferguson: Three years, ’80 to ’83.
Franklin: Okay. And what did you do after that?
Ferguson: I started up a company, R.L. Ferguson and Associates, a consulting company. And we sold that to SAIC. And then I started up another company, Nouveau Tech. And we acquired a nuclear waste facility that’s out here, now it’s called PermaFix Northwest. We acquired that out of bankruptcy from ATG. And then in 2007, I sold that to PermaFix. And since then, I’ve been writing books and consulting.
Franklin: So you’re still not retired.
Ferguson: No. I’m still consulting.
Franklin: Still consulting. But still on—
Ferguson: And I’ve written two books on the nuclear waste issue, so—
Franklin: Okay, great. Well, which two books are those?
Ferguson: Nuclear Waste in Your Backyard: Who’s to Blame and What to Do About It. And the first one was called—I can’t remember the name of it. Something about Obama and Reid wasting money. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Ah. Tell me about your involvement with the Tri-Cities Nuclear Industrial Council, TRICNIC, which later became TRIDEC.
Ferguson: Well, after I left WPPSS, I was asked to be the chair of TRICNIC. Because I was kind of in a period when I was trying to recover for my health. And so Sam Volpentest was the executive vice president, and Glen Lee was publisher of the paper then, and Bob Philips was the president. And they would ask me to be the president of TRICNIC. And then because of the need to diversify the economy in the Tri-Cities, we merged TRICNIC with the Tri-City Chamber, and that became then TRIDEC. And so I was the first president and chair of TRIDEC, when it was formed. And Sam stayed on until his death. He worked up until he died. And then Gary Petersen took over his place to head up the Hanford part of TRICNIC.
Franklin: I wonder if you could talk about working with Sam Volpentest.
Ferguson: There’s been a whole book written about that. [LAUGHTER] Did you read it? The godfather?
Franklin: I have, yeah, The Community Godfather by C. Mark Smith.
Ferguson: Much of my life is in there.
Franklin: Okay.
Ferguson: [LAUGHTER] But anyway, no, yeah, he was one of those remarkable people that you know in your lifetime. He worked right up until he died. I told a story at his funeral—a eulogy—I said, you know, the clock was set right after 5:00 because he wanted to put in a final shift before he died. [LAUGHTER] So he died right after 5:00. [LAUGHTER] But Sam was very devoted to the Tri-Cities and the economic development of the Tri-Cities and spent his whole life on behalf. But he was probably largely responsible for my—or one of the reasons for taking over WPPSS, because he was close to Senator Jackson. I had worked with him in the community on FFTF as well. When I took over FFTF, we not only—the prior head of the nuclear in Washington had testified it would be completed for $187 million. But we didn’t—not only couldn’t you complete it, we ran out of money that year. And Sam was instrumental in TRIDEC—or TRICNIC was instrumental in getting a supplemental appropriation to keep FFTF. That’s one of its early, early almost-deaths. So I started working with Sam in the community at that time. So then when I left WPPSS, I was asked to get more involved.
Franklin: Great. I’m wondering if you can remember or can tell me about any kind of notable events or incidents that happened at Hanford while you were working out there. I think you would have been gone for the JFK visit, which was in ’63, but if there were any other—
Ferguson: Right, I was at Argonne then.
Franklin: But if there were any other notable events or incidents that happened at Hanford while you worked there.
Ferguson: Oh. Other than the leak? 106-T leak?
Franklin: Pretty notable. Or maybe in general in Tri-Cities history, or any—did you ever go to any of the Atomic Frontier Days parades or anything like that?
Ferguson: No, I didn’t, no. I’m trying to think of—well, 10,000 people marched in support of keeping WNP-1 alive. Have you ever seen that picture?
Franklin: Yes.
Ferguson: 10,000 people, can you imagine that?
Franklin: Yes, yeah, that’s—
Ferguson: Supporting nuclear power? Where else in the country could you do that?
Franklin: Not too many places.
Ferguson: Well, I’m trying to think, what--?
Franklin: It’s okay if you don’t.
Ferguson: I really—I can’t.
Franklin: It’s one of my stock questions.
Ferguson: Oh, okay.
Franklin: You know, in case something pops up.
Ferguson: Right.
Franklin: So, I guess—let me look over this.
Ferguson: Probably told you more than you want to know!
Franklin: Yeah, we’ve covered quite a bit. And I just have kind of one last question that’s kind of a wrap-up question. But I’m wondering what you would like future generations to know about working at Hanford and living in Richland in the Cold War.
Ferguson: Well, I think it would be very important, and I think it’s even important for this generation to understand the circumstances under which people operated the reactors. There’s been a lot of public criticism about the fact that we discharged waste into the ground. And people just, I think, don’t understand the pressures and the circumstances. The major thing people should understand is that Hanford was very carefully chosen because of the potential risk of an accident or even discharge of radioactive material. The selection of Hanford is unique in the location. The 200 Area, it’s unique in the sense that under the site is a layer of caliche, it’s like cement. Overlaying on that is sand. And they looked up on this as basically a way to hold up the radioactive material and they put it in the ground. And so it wasn’t just people being careless or anything like that. There were the pressures and unknowns. People didn’t know a lot about nuclear, but there was an incredible safety record in spite of all of that. So anyway, I think the big disappointment I have is that the waste hasn’t been take care of, and it’s mostly a political issue than a technical issue. It could have been taken care of a long time ago, but it’s terrible. It’s an issue that has become politicized.
Franklin: Right. Because sites with smaller amounts of waste have been able to encapsulate—begin or even in some cases finish encapsulation programs like West Valley, Savannah River—have been able to deal.
Ferguson: And most of our waste out here doesn’t really have to be vitrified, either. It’s high activity, because of where it came from, by law. It came from reprocessing. But it’s high-level waste, but it’s low-activity waste. And so if you remove the cesium from it, you could basically secure the waste in a cementaceous form and send it to Texas. About 80% of the waste could be done and we wouldn’t even have to build a vit plant. So it’s been—the design of the Vit Plant was wrong from the beginning. The Hanford waste is unique from a lot of different wastes, in that it’s such a mixture of so many different kinds—it’s not homogeneous. So the design of the Vit Plant, rather than have multiple facilities to treat separate kinds of waste, they basically have a pre-treatment plant where they want to treat all of the waste to make it in a consistent form to feed into the melter. Well, the pre-treatment plant is what’s stopping everything. So there’s been a lot of—you know, I’ve lived through about three or four different starts of the Vit Plant. So, I’ve seen it, and it’s very frustrating to see how political it has become, and a lack of science-based decisions that are made.
Franklin: Yeah, I’ve seen some of the bumper stickers, I forget exactly what they say, but I’ll paraphrase here: Vitrification in 2007, or Hanford Vit Plant. You know, 2007 or 2004. And then we’re—it’s 2016 and we’re still waiting.
Ferguson: Still waiting. Still no—
Franklin: Perhaps—as you said, perhaps for a plant that is not the best approach—
Ferguson: Right.
Franklin: --to the problem. Well—
Ferguson: Sam Volpentest predicted before he died that the Vit Plant would never be built because of the cost. And now you’re seeing it being questioned because of the cost. People are saying, why do we have to spend this kind of money? Because it’s—about $3 billion comes here every year for Hanford, including Battelle. But it’s a huge amount of money. It’s like the WPPSS plants. People used to say, well, we have to build them no matter what. Well, they got too expensive and the need for power went away, and so they didn’t get built. So there comes a price when things are not affordable. And there’s not really a risk to the river. The waste needs to be treated and cleaned up, but there’s no risk, really. There’s no health risk. The flow of the river is so great, any material gets in there is so diluted you can’t even detect it. But that’s not a solution. Right after 106-T, Battelle did some studies for us, just what-if studies. And we said, what if all the waste went in the Columbia River? Well, downstream, it wouldn’t be a problem. It’s so dilute. Not that that’s—I’m not advocating that at all. But it just shows you that the risk to the health and safety of the public is not—does not demand what we’re doing with the waste out there. It doesn’t mean it shouldn’t be taken care of. I’m just—because at one time Sam and I faced some members of Congress who wanted to put a fence around Hanford and not do anything with it. Just leave it there. [LAUGHTER] So, anyway. I’ve been there, done it.
Franklin: So at least we’re away from that solution.
Ferguson: Well, I hope we’re not going back there. But when the price gets so high, people away from here and the demand for money in the budget gets so tremendous, it’s—strange things can happen.
Franklin: They sure can.
[LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Well, Bob, thank you so much for coming in and interviewing with us today.
Ferguson: Okay, Robert.
Franklin: I really appreciated it.
Ferguson: I hope I didn’t cover too much for you.
Franklin: You did a great job; we touched on a lot of really great things. So thank you.
Ferguson: Okay.
Franklin: All right.
Robert Franklin: Yup.
Tom Hungate: Okay.
Franklin: Okay. My name is Robert Franklin, and I am conducting an interview with Linda Davis on May 26th 2016. The interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. I will be talking to Linda Davis about her experiences growing up in Richland, and her father’s experiences coming to work on the Hanford site. So, Linda, let’s start at the beginning. Why don’t you—you were mentioning earlier, with some of those items you brought which we’ll view later—you were showing us pictures of growing up and your father’s photo when he came here. So I guess why don’t we start with your father coming here.
Linda Davis: My dad had been working in Kansas on I think it was a CCC project. And it came to an end. And they were told very little. Go to Washington. They’re like, right. [LAUGHTER] But my parents had always wanted to get the heck out of Kansas, so they found that this was their escape. And it was during the Depression, so jobs were tough. My dad came out. He was supposed to be coming out with a bunch of friends, and my brother got sick, so he ended up coming out later. He had to—he hopped box cars to get here! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow!
Davis: He rode the rails and hitchhiked. And he got here a few weeks after his friends—a couple weeks after his friends did. They all got the management positions, and he got to be Joe Blow. [LAUGHTER] But he came out in February, March of ’43. He had been working cement. They sent him out with some other guys. They drove all over the whole reservation looking for the right rocks and gravel and sand to make the cement to start pouring B Reactor footings. After he did that, he was there when they poured the footings and that was always one of his—he was always very proud that he was there when they did the footings. Briefly, he was sent over to the extrusion and he was one of the first ones to actually run the machine to extrude the plutonium. Then after a short term there, he went back to B Reactor and became a nuclear operator until he retired.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: And he was first here in a tent.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: They supplied these big tents with a stove in the corner. And he says those really weren’t that bad. Then they, quote, moved him to barracks. And he says, those were the pits. They had gaps in the wood. There was just one layer of wood and gaps. So you learned really early on—you woke up in the morning, you shook your head, you wiped your eyes off, because you’re either removing snow or sand. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: And he says when he got here off the train, he says, there was as many people getting on the train to leave. And he says, the sands would come in and people were missing their families, and they were leaving in droves. My mom and the kids did not come until fall of ’43. There was no housing at that point in time. They went and lived in Yakima and my mom got a job and dad would commute on his long changes to Yakima to go visit the family. The rest of the time, he’d go stay in the barracks. And when he first got here with some of his friends, they had long lines for the showers. They were like, oh, we don’t want to wait in these stupid shower lines, we’re in a hurry. So him and his friends went—they’re from Kansas, streams there are shallow and warm. They went, there’s this great big river, so they ran down and jumped in the river. And jumped right back out! [LAUGHTER] He said it was so cold! They went and stood in line after that.
Franklin: That’s a great story.
Davis: And my dad played poker and he was well known for his poker playing here. We thought he used to—was just bragging, until when he died and people were coming in and they were going, wow, was he one wicked poker player. They used to be able to play poker on the buses.
Franklin: Really?
Davis: Yeah, you know, an hour ride, they had these little tables they’d set up towards the back and they played poker.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: He could earn almost as much money playing poker as he could working. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, that’s great. So how long was it before your mother and—so you weren’t born yet at the time.
Davis: No! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So how long was it before your mother and the rest of your family were able to move to the Tri-Cities?
Davis: They stayed in Yakima for about a year and a half. And then they moved—their first house was a A house on MacPherson, which was just finished and they ended up having to go to a hotel the first night, because it was freshly painted, and it made them all sick because it was still wet. [LAUGHTER] They were kind of unusual because they had their own furniture that they had brought from Kansas. Most people came and they had—everybody had the same bed, dresser, everything was supplied. But they had a lot of their own furniture that they brought from Kansas. So they would have been here—let’s see, he came out in ’43, ’44—early ’45 is when they got their first house--
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: --in the Tri-Cities. During that time, Dad had commuted back and forth.
Franklin: Wow. And you said that your mom was working in Yakima. What kind of work was she doing?
Davis: She was a receptionist in a doctor’s office.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: She was telling me—oh, just a few years ago, she was telling me that she was working, and people had been displaced and all the, quote, riffraff was coming in, and people looked really down on the people like them who were coming in. She was working in a doctor’s office, so nobody really thought about it, so they were a lot of times just talking, and some ladies got real snippy about, well, you got all this riffraff coming in and these lowlifes and stuff. And she just looked up and said, oh, well I’m one of those. [LAUGHTER] But they were really looked down on, because people didn’t know why they had been displaced. And they didn’t know why all these people were coming from all over the country.
Franklin: Right, because they hadn’t—
Davis: Nobody was allowed to know anything. So there was a lot of anger, and a lot of looking down their noses at people that had come into the Hanford Project.
Franklin: Do you think maybe some class conflict? Or maybe people they had perceived as Dust Bowl type people--?
Davis: Dust Bowl type people, because a lot of them came—Kansas, Oklahoma supplied a lot of the workers out here, because the word had gotten around, go to Washington, go to Washington. They didn’t know why, just go to Washington, you’ll find a job. You’ve got crummy farming, a lot of them just packed up and left. And they showed up. Then the, quote, natives of the area who had felt that they had been here for a significant amount of time really did look down on all these strangers coming in. It was—they would look like refugees to them. Because a lot of them came with homemade trailers and, literally their own tents if they couldn’t find a place to live.
Franklin: And they hopped boxcars.
Davis: And they hopped boxcars to get here! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, that’s really interesting. So, earlier you mentioned that your family had lived in a lot of different houses early on or kind of gone all over. So can you talk about that? Those early years of being in Richland.
Davis: You were assigned houses by what kind of job you had and how many children you had. You could apply to get a different house. And for all sorts of different reasons—my mother liked to move, I think, because a lot of it—she always liked to move. And Dad went along with it. They lived in ranch houses, F houses, A houses—they sneakily got into an H house, which they didn’t qualify for. You couldn’t—weren’t supposed to get into any housing unless it’s written out by the government that you could. They traded with somebody who wanted something—they wanted like the A house. They were in an H house and Mom and Dad said, oh, we’d like the H. So they traded without telling the government.
Franklin: Ooh.
Davis: That lasted six months. [LAUGHTER] Then they had to move again. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So the H houses were bigger then? I’m not quite up on all of the—
Davis: They have a basement; they have one floor. They were probably better made. They were nicer houses than like the A. But the one people were having more kids or something. I can’t remember why they wanted to change. But Mom and Dad sneakily did it, then they sneakily had to slink out [LAUGHTER] when they were told they had to leave.
Franklin: Wow. Yeah, one thing I’ve heard around here is that basements in those early years were pretty rare.
Davis: What basements you had, like in the A houses, B houses, F houses, they were dirt. I’ve been in them when they hadn’t been changed yet. It’s basically a dirt floor, you walk down the stairs and then you’re there. Then there’s like this raised cement block area. Well, that’s where they’d dump the coal into. They would come with these trucks and dump the coal in. You just had enough room to go down there and shovel coal. They were pretty gross. [LAUGHTER] But I remember Mom and Dad, though, said everything was supplied. You had no utilities, they brought your coal—you had to call and ask for a lightbulb to be changed. You were not allowed to do it yourself. [LAUGHTER] Totally government.
Franklin: Yeah, that’s a lot like here. You have to put in a facilities request to do that.
Davis: Yeah, well, they had to—she goes, a lightbulb? Like, we can’t change your own? Oh, no. But she says they were really Johnny-on-the-spot.
Franklin: Really?
Davis: Yeah. They’d call and say, you know, lightbulb in the bathroom burned out. Oh! We’ll be right there!
Franklin: Wow, so it would have been a whole department of people.
Davis: There was a whole department of people who were doing that. If you were not working at Hanford or what they called support, like supplying the oil and changing the lightbulbs, a grocery store, pharmacist or something, you were not allowed to live here.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: And if you were, like, married and your husband—one of their friends that happened—dropped dead of a heart attack, she was given 48 hours to leave with her kids. They were kind of severe at times. But it was super safe. Kids could run and play. If your kid got in trouble, you could lose your job. That was—I remember my dad always holding that over my brothers. [LAUGHTER] If you get in trouble, I can lose my job and we’ll have to leave.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So kids were good; they didn’t have a choice. If you had a kid who became a juvenile delinquent, then you could lose your job and given 24 hours to leave town.
Franklin: Did you know of any incidences of that happening?
Davis: My parents talked about it, but I didn’t have names or—you know. Just somebody that they knew, their kids had been a real pain—and he ended up I think keeping his job, but he had to move to Kennewick. He couldn’t stay in government. He managed to beg and plead and keep his job, but he had to leave town.
Franklin: So they were not only kind of controlled the work site, but they also really controlled the fabric of the community as well.
Davis: To the point where they had—after leaving Richland, and living elsewhere and now in Kennewick, you realize the layers are like military layers. And it’s taken a long time for that to kind of break down. You had your echelons, just like in the military. They even went so far as to tell people, you are in this job and you’re in this job, and you’re not supposed to communicate. They may have grown up together in some Podunk place in the Midwest, known each other since childhood, but, all of the sudden, oh, you’re not supposed to talk to each other? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Right, so kind of like that difference between commissioned officers—
Davis: And a non-com.
Franklin: Non-com.
Davis: Yeah. Oh, you’re more of a commissioned, you’re too high up and you can’t talk to the lower echelon.
Franklin: Right, scientists don’t talk to janitors and so forth.
Davis: Yeah.
Franklin: That’s really interesting. Did your mom work after—
Davis: Yes, she worked at Dr. Ellner’s office, urologist here in town. She worked there for—I don’t know—from the time I was about nine, eight—I guess I was about eight when she started working there. So that would have been ’62.
Franklin: Okay. And so then you would be born in ’54.
Davis: Mm-hmm.
Franklin: ’54. Okay.
Davis: Part of that big baby boom.
Franklin: Yeah. And how many siblings do you have?
Davis: Three.
Franklin: Okay. And were any of them—did any of them move to Richland from—so your parents came, your father came out in ’43, and then your family came out in the fall. When were your siblings born?
Davis: They were born all in Kansas.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: And so they were born in ’37, ’40, and ’41.
Franklin: So you’re the real baby of the bunch.
Davis: Oh, yeah. I was the surprise. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Ah. I think we all are in some way.
Davis: Oh, I was—my mom was 41, so yeah, I was a shock.
Franklin: Wow, yeah, that is quite a surprise. So tell me—then you would have been born then when Richland was still a government town.
Davis: Right.
Franklin: So tell me about growing up, like maybe from your earliest memories on. What was it like to—do you have any early memories of before—while Richland was still a government town?
Davis: Yeah, I have a lot of memories from really early. My brother and I seem to both have the brains from early, early. The other two go, I don’t remember anything then. [LAUGHTER] They don’t really remember anything until after they’re five! One of the things that always struck me was, as a kid, driving through town and they had that asbestos siding that you had a green house or this dark reddish house. They all kind of looked the same. I know my sister one time accidentally ended up in the wrong house after school. And one of Mom’s best friends came in and found some guy sleeping in her bed. He was on leave from the Army and he had gotten in the wrong house. But they all looked the same. And people had the same furniture.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: So my sister went in and says, like, the living room furniture, I think, was all the same. And she says, she came home, put her papers down and then went out and played. Then came back later and went, Mom keeps moving the furniture! [LAUGHTER] She says she has no idea which house she went into.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Yeah, they had basically—I remember the green and the red. There might have been—and then there was some blue. And then they had like a cream color with them. So like the A houses would have been light colored on the top and then the red on the bottom. Or cream and—there was like three choices. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Right. It’s like the Model T. You can get it in black or black.
Davis: Right. Yeah, this was—and you didn’t have a choice what color it was. And I guess when they first moved in, besides the paint being wet, they literally handed them a ten-pound bag of grass seed and said, plant your yard! Have fun! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. That’s great. So, how about any memories that stand out from your early childhood or early life in Richland? I remember, earlier you mentioned that before we started taping, that your family had bought one of the first commercially available houses.
Davis: Spec home.
Franklin: Spec home. What year was that?
Davis: 1960.
Franklin: Okay, so you would have been about six years old then.
Davis: Right. That was just before I was six, yeah.
Franklin: And what was that like, to be in one of these?
Davis: You—
Franklin: New, new, new homes.
Davis: Because of the class thing going on, I was not considered—and then shortly after they started building this North Richland area—I always felt like I didn’t fit in. I didn’t fit in with the kids in the, quote, government houses.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: My house was basically a ranch house. We had hardwood floors instead of tiles. And we had a one-car garage, ooh, ahh. [LAUGHTER] But it really wasn’t—it was just a three-bedroom ranch. One bathroom and a one-car garage. And then all the scientists and the people making more money and the doctors started building into North Richland. And I didn’t fit in with them, either, because they went, oh, you’re in that little house. It was kind of like feeling like you didn’t fit in anywhere. Because I wasn’t in a government house, and a lot of the government houses were way bigger than the house we were in.
Franklin: Huh.
Davis: But I remember saying—one of the first memories in that house was—they’d moved us in—oh, they’d never allow it nowadays. Moved us in, we had no water. So the firemen came and hooked up to a fire hydrant about a block and a half away. [LAUGHTER] And then it ran into a garden hose, and it was February, and like below zero. So you always had to have water running in the bathtub to keep the little garden house. And if froze up, all the neighbors would come out and jump up and down on it, breaking the ice up. But nowadays you wouldn’t be able to move into a house without full running water.
Franklin: Right, right. Wow. That’s fabulous.
Davis: And then when we were first there—we were the very first ones sold. The others were having open houses. And we’d be sitting there having like a family get-together, and people start walking in our house. Oh, this one’s not open! No. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: And then that of course touched off a boom, though, right, in house construction in Richland.
Davis: Right. North Richland, I remember we used to sit at our kitchen table and look out and watch all the houses going up, and here are all the—for years, you could see new houses and hear hammering every morning. North Richland just really took off because everybody started building their own.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: A lot of people went ahead and bought their original house from the government, but my parents—I don’t know, they fell—my dad fell in love with this house. My mother hated it. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: How long did they live at that house?
Davis: We lived there 13 years.
Franklin: Okay. So they really do like to move around a lot.
Davis: That’s like mom’s record, yeah. Her last move was with us and she had to live with us ten years without moving before she died. [LAUGHTER] But generally, about—when my siblings were growing up, they got used to moving every six months to a year and a half. And they went to every single school in Richland.
Franklin: Wow. Well, I guess they know a pretty big cross-section of the community, then.
Davis: They were always—when you talk to different people, they’re like, oh yeah, so-and-so, and I go, oh yeah, my parents were their neighbors. And somebody else would say, oh yeah, they were their neighbors, too. Like Garmo who owned one of the grocery stores. All these different people, they were their neighbors at some point in time. Probably Johnson, who was the photographer for the area. He was a good friend and I’m still in recent contact with his daughter.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: But pretty much, if you lived in Richland for any length of time, my parents were your neighbor at some point. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: That’s great. So when did your father retire from Hanford?
Davis: I was married, so—when did he retire? I got married in ’74, so I’m trying to remember exactly. ’75 or ’76, something like that.
Franklin: Oh, wow, so he was on—did he have any gaps in employment, or did he work onsite since 1943?
Davis: He worked onsite that whole time.
Franklin: Wow, and so what did—
Davis: Except for the six-week strike they had. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Oh, well tell me about that.
Davis: I don’t even remember what it was about. I was in junior high. They had a strike which my dad was not in favor of, but he wouldn’t break union line. So he was on strike. During that time, he says, oh well, I’ll make the best of it, so he built a family room onto our house. [LAUGHTER] And got hooked on soap operas.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: He used to make fun of Mom wanting to watch her soap opera, and then when he went back to work, he’d come home from work and go, what happened with—[LAUGHTER] But they were only on strike for like six weeks.
Franklin: And do you remember what the strike was about at all?
Davis: I don’t remember what it was about. Like I say, it was in junior high. It was—
Franklin: Do you think you can give me kind of a date range so we could try to find something about that?
Davis: That would have been in the late ‘60s? Somewhere in—yeah. It wasn’t a very long strike, but it was the first one that I know of that they had. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Was that site wide, do you remember?
Davis: Yeah, it was site wide. I wish I remembered what it was, but in junior high you don’t pay attention to stuff like that. Yeah, Dad’s on strike, well, so is everybody else’s dad, so—
Franklin: All you know is that he’s camped out on the couch watching soap operas.
Davis: No, he was busy building the family room.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Davis: He literally put a whole addition on the back of the house. So that’s what he was doing during his six weeks.
Franklin: Still worked. So you mentioned that he had been kind of a construction guy and then had worked at the separation plant, right, and then worked in the B Reactor. So what other jobs did he have?
Davis: He went from B Reactor, when they closed it down, then he went to K. And then he kept saying, oh, I sure hope they don’t ever send me to N. That’s where he ended up. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah?
Davis: He was always—he liked his B Reactor. Just the way the others were set up and they were different, he liked his B Reactor.
Franklin: He got comfortable—
Davis: But he ended up at N Reactor anyway. That’s where he retired from.
Franklin: Oh, wow. And what did he do at—
Davis: He was a reactor operator. He was—yeah, from after construction, he was a reactor operator.
Franklin: So it seems like a really big career jump, from construction to—
Davis: Yeah, but they didn’t—nobody knew what they were doing exactly.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: So it’s learn-as-you-go. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah, I bet.
Davis: My dad—I remember him—it was really neat to go on the B Reactor tour, because it was probably the 70s before he ever even talked about what it looked like or anything. I never knew what it looked like. But he started—in the 70s was able to start feeling comfortable—I mean, it wasn’t classified or anything then. But the guys had just been used to not talking about it.
Franklin: Well, yeah, I mean secrecy.
Davis: But he started describing the panels and stuff. And there was this office behind him, and he says—during World War II—he says, the crazy Italian in the silk suits sat back there. And then he’d go get crapped up, is when they’d get contaminated and they’d have to take his silk suits away and burn them. I didn’t realize it until after Dad was gone, when he was talking about the crazy Italian in the silk suits, that was Fermi.
Franklin: Yeah.
Davis: Sitting behind my dad! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, that’s amazing.
Davis: But he never said his name. He never said his name. Just the crazy Italian in the silk suits.
Franklin: But, of course he probably would have known his name.
Davis: Oh, during World War II, they didn’t.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Davis: So that’s how—I think they just referred to him as the crazy Italians with the silk suits. Because they literally did not know their names. He was the guy who sat back there, and he’d go into places they weren’t allowed to go to. And he wasn’t really supposed to, but he’d go in and tinker. Then they’d check him for radiation and go, eh, those clothes—I remember, one of my early memories is being in grade school and my dad getting off the bus, because everybody rode the buses to work. They were just like clockwork and super on—I mean super on time. And I remember coming out of the house, and my dad’s getting off the bus in the afternoon and—I guess I was heading to school. He’s coming down—my dad was only five-foot-six. And he’s got a pair of pants that he’s holding up around his armpits, and a shirt that’s probably was past his knees rolled up to his—and clomping along in these shoes that don’t fit. He had gotten crapped up at work.
Franklin: Oh.
Davis: And he ended up—one of his friends who was like six-foot-six had some extra clothes. [LAUGHTER] Yeah, he’s like, you know, when you get your clothes crapped up, you lose your clothes.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: Even your underwear. [LAUGHTER] So he’s coming home with—[LAUGHTER] I still remember—luckily we only lived like a half block from where the bus dropped him off. But I thought, that had to be a little uncomfortable at work, walking around like that.
Franklin: Yeah, no kidding.
Davis: Trying to hold these. Yeah, Trawler, he was six-five, six-six. He was a tall guy, skinny. But Dad was only five-foot-six. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow, that’s a great story. So there’s some—a couple of the big events that we always ask people about and one of them is Kennedy’s visit to the N Reactor in 1963. Did you—were you—
Davis: Both my parents were working.
Franklin: They were both working, so—
Davis: [LAUGHTER] I didn’t have any way to get there. I wanted to go, but my parents, oh, it’s going to be a big crowd. They didn’t like crowds.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: So, yeah, I didn’t get to go. They were both working. So I heard about it from my friends. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Your friends who went?
Davis: Yeah, I had friends who went.
Franklin: Awesome.
Davis: And they still remember it, and I’m going, oh, I didn’t get to go.
Franklin: Ah, you were busy. So any other major—any other big events that kind of stick out at you in Richland, growing up in Richland or maybe even a little later?
Davis: Ah, let’s see, what were the events? They always had their fire parade, their fire prevention parades. That was when you were a kid and you got to decorate your bike and ride down the road.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Davis: G Way, and they had—when I was really little, there was like Frontier Days or some other parade that we had. And then one of the big thrills was in the spring, they would bring in, quote, well, we’d call them travel trailers now, but they were the early mobile homes that were like eight-foot-wide and 12 feet long. And they’d set them up in the Uptown Richland parking lot. You’d go look through them and go, oh, aren’t these cool. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: They brought them up for sale?
Davis: Yeah, you know how they do car shows now in parking lots? Well, they’d bring these little mobile—[LAUGHTER] little dinky mobile homes. Which nowadays, I says, my fifth wheel’s bigger [LAUGHTER] than these, quote, homes that you’re supposed to live in.
Franklin: I could imagine for some of the people who had been here in the early days that those might have given them some flashbacks to the trailer camps or—
Davis: Yeah, my parents didn’t live in the trailer camps, but they had a lot of friends who did. And one of my best friends, her parents had built—they had no place to live, so they built their own trailer and lived down at the Y. It was a homemade, and it was really little with three kids. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. That’s amazing. So did you end up staying in Richland, then—did you ever move out of the Tri-Cities?
Davis: We went to the Chicago area, and we were gone—I didn’t leave until I got married.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: My husband went to Pullman for a year and then we went to Chicago. We were gone about nine years and then came back and raised our kids here.
Franklin: Oh, okay. And so what brought you back to the—
Davis: Family. My parents were here, my dad’s health was failing, and I had just lost my father-in-law. So we kind of wanted the kids to get the chance to know their grandparents, because my husband’s parents were both gone. So, family. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Davis: And good memories of being growing up here.
Franklin: Sure, sure.
Davis: Versus Chicago. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So, what would you—is there anything you would like future generations to know about growing up—like kind of the experience growing up in Richland, or what it would have been like to be so close to Hanford? To help them understand what that would be like.
Davis: Growing up with my dad, the guys and women who worked out there, they were proud of what they did. Yes, bombs, they all agreed, the bomb is nasty. But in the long run it probably saved millions of lives on both sides. Because Japan was willing to fight ‘til the last man, which would have been millions of more lives lost. And if they would have gotten the bomb first, we’d be speaking Japanese. [LAUGHTER] I think there’s an overall pride—and my husband and I were just talking about this last year, that what was accomplished at Hanford would never be able to be done today. Back then, the old—they had all the signs, loose lips sink ships. My husband says, well, it’d been sunk long—they couldn’t have even gotten the first thing done before it would have been out in the open. Nowadays I don’t think they could pull it off. And people knew they weren’t supposed to talk about it. My dad—my mom said when they were living in Yakima, my dad, he had read about the reactor—splitting the atom in the Collier’s magazine before the war. They were going to go get the magazine and look it up. They never got around to it. Found out if you asked about that magazine, you were fired.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So they learned not to say anything. They handed some uranium around and my dad by the weight, he said, it wasn’t very big but he knew by the weight what it was. And he started to say something, and his boss says, don’t. And later he says if you would’ve said it, I would’ve had to have fired you on the spot. I mean, you just knew that if you said anything—so he whispered it to my mom one night, under—they were sure that there were microphones everywhere. So even though they were living in Yakima, he would put a pillow over them. And he says, I think we’re making the bomb.
Franklin: Really?
Davis: And my mom kind of went, pfft. Sure you are. [LAUGHTER] And then my mom didn’t know—said they didn’t really know what it was until my brother came home from school and all the kids and everybody was going, we dropped the bomb, we dropped the bomb.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: But I think there’s a pride in what they did. It was very secretive and when you realize that everybody was doing their little part, and they didn’t know what the other parts were. I mean, it’d be like trying to tell somebody to put a car together. Here, you have this screw, put it somewhere—and only that one. And you don’t really know what’s going on. It was really amazing what they pulled off.
Franklin: Yeah.
Davis: And I think they—all the men and women who worked out there were really proud of what they did. And I think it went on to their families to feel proud of what they did. Yeah, the bomb’s not a nice thing, but where we would have been without it?
Franklin: Right. What about later in the Cold War, after, and all the other things that were produced—all the other bombs that were produced? Do you think that added or ever shifted and change, or—especially in the late 60s with the protests?
Davis: Yeah, in the ‘60s, my dad used to get to work with Dixy Lee Ray periodically and they’d sit and talk. And he always kept saying, you know, we’ve kept it so quiet and we keep it so hush-hush. He says, we’re past that point now, we need to educate people on nuclear power and get away from the—people, and I still talk to people, especially not from around here, when you’re in other states, they cannot separate power from bomb. To them, it’s all one thing. There is no power, it’s just a bomb. And it’s like, no, you can have nuclear power and not have a bomb. And he kept saying, we need to educate—and I remember learning stuff about it in school here. Cousins and stuff back east, they never learned anything about it. They knew nothing about nuclear power, nuclear fission—nothing. [LAUGHTER] I think the sad part is that they didn’t do more educating, they just—they lived too long in that shroud of secrecy, and didn’t spread the knowledge.
Franklin: Right. So you think, maybe it was—even though everybody knew after ’45 what was—and that they were continuing to produced, there was maybe a missed opportunity there.
Davis: And throughout the ‘50s it was still—you didn’t talk about it.
Franklin: Right, the fear, the specter of international communism.
Davis: Right, even though war was over with the bombs, everybody knows about it, it still was a hush-hush. Yeah, I think they missed an opportunity on education. And people just grew up fearing it and not understanding anything about—hey, this could be a decent power source.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: Taking Chernobyl out as a factor. [LAGUHTER] That was a poorly designed—
Franklin: There’s also Three Mile and other—certainly when a lot of people on the East Coast found about nuclear power first—
Davis: Yeah, they learned about it when it wasn’t—sometimes it was a poor design to start with. Well, when we lived in Chicago, there’s the Indiana Dunes. They were trying to build one on the Dunes. They didn’t even have any bedrock to sink it into. And we’re going, you know, they’re dunes? They kind of like, don’t stay put? [LAUGHTER] When we left there, they were still trying to do it. And we’re like, that doesn’t even make sense. So then there was a lot of stupid mistakes, too, that—yeah, you got to think about all the safety part.
Franklin: Right. But it seems kind of hard sometimes to separate the secrecy even from the—there’s so much [INAUDIBLE].
Davis: Do you know, through even the mid ‘60s there was still tremendous secrecy. Mid and late ‘60s. You still, living here, felt like, you know, it was hush-hush.
Franklin: But I imagine with the government owning the town until the late ‘50s that certainly you would keep that element of—that kind of vibe alive.
Davis: Yeah, and pretty much the same people who were here when the government released the town—when I graduated from high school, what, were there 9,000 people in Richland? That was in ’72. So a good chunk of those people were ones who were still here from World War II.
Franklin: Right, and you lived in Richland the whole time, from when you were growing up, when you were born.
Davis: Mm-hm.
Franklin: So did you ever go to the other two cities much?
Davis: Oh, yeah! Downtown Pasco was one of the best places to shop!
Franklin: Oh really?
Davis: Oh, it had the classy stores!
Franklin: Really?
Davis: Oh, yeah. It was a major trek, but you’d go to downtown Pasco to go shopping. Well, that was a big day shopping, because they had the fancier ladies’ stores, they had shoe stores, they had the pet shop!
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Davis: And they had a big drug store, and furniture stores and you could spend a whole day in, quote, Downtown Pasco! [LAUGHTER] That was a classy place to go. And then the old downtown Kennewick was—that was more functional. It had Penney’s and Sears and stuff, you know. Not Sears—what was it? I can’t remember the name of the store. But when you needed fireplace stuff or a stove or something.
Franklin: So like a Woolworth’s or something like that.
Davis: Yeah, but there were several stores. And there was the hardware store that’s still there.
Franklin: Yeah, the—
Davis: Kennewick Hardware is still there. It was there when I was little. I think one of the big things you remember is like going there in three feet of snow because our stove had caught fire. We had to buy a new stove. Back then you could leave your kid in the car, and I was tired of going in and out of stores, and sitting there in the car. I was probably about four. Mom was just inside, you know, ordering a stove and we got a chinook. Within like the time that they took them to order their stove and come out, I watched the snow leave. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Totally fascinating. It was gurgling and stuff, but wow. That’s one thing about this area, you get chinooks. When you talk about it in Chicago, they go, huh? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Wow, that’s really interesting. Did you have any friends from the other cities, or did you mostly—
Davis: My parents’ best friends moved to Kennewick, which was my sister’s best friend—it started out with my sister’s best friend who they lived kitty-corner from us when I was born, and then our parents met and became best friends, and then her younger sister and I are best friends, and we’re each other’s kids’ godparents. But they—when I was about three or four, they moved to Kennewick to a new house. [LAUGHTER] And then he commuted. He had to drive out to work because he couldn’t—the buses didn’t go to Kennewick; they were only in Richland.
Franklin: So there was still a lot of inducement, then, to stay in Richland.
Davis: Yeah, you didn’t have to get that second car, because you’d just walk—most of the guys didn’t walk more than a block or two to get to the bus.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: I mean, these buses were everywhere.
Franklin: Yeah, at the project offices, we have a map—I think it’s from the very early ‘80s but even then they were still running buses, and yeah, they’d go all—
Davis: They go everywhere and nobody walked more than two blocks from their house to a bus.
Franklin: That’s [INAUDIBLE].
Davis: So you only had to have one car. Even when my mom was working, she got the car to go to work and Dad rode the bus. Wasn’t any problem.
Franklin: Right. I bet that would help instill a certain sense of camaraderie, because you’d ride the bus with these guys, and it’s not like today when you get in a car and you’re kind of in this bubble—you have a radio, but you’re kind of in a bubble. Whereas in a bus, everyday, you--
Davis: Well, we lived there, where—the change between the government town and the newer part of town. So you had people like Dad—you’ve got nuclear operators, you had janitors and you had the scientists, all on the same bus. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: I mean, everybody rode the bus. When the bus would come, there’d always be five or six guys standing out down there. And a bunch would get off and a bunch would get on.
Franklin: So after the changeover, it was still the site that operated all the buses.
Davis: Mm-hm.
Franklin: Did they have to pay for that, or was that just a perk?
Davis: That was just—yeah, they just paid for it. I mean, the government paid for it—nobody else could ride the buses, only the workers and they only went to and from work. They weren’t for like the families to go shopping or anything. It was just for the workers. And, yeah, they just got on the buses and they knew they were going to be there.
Franklin: When did bus service start in the area for other people living in Richland?
Davis: It had to have been after—as soon as they started building houses.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: Because these guys had to get to work—
Franklin: Right. Oh, no, sorry—
Davis: And most people back then, you had tire vouchers and stuff—you couldn’t like get tires overnight. You couldn’t even get bananas without a doctor’s prescription. [LAUGHTER] My siblings were skinny, so Mom always ended up with a prescription for bananas.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Yeah, they had to write doctor’s prescriptions. So getting a second car wasn’t even really an option. So they started the bus service really early, just getting these guys out to work as they started building the home.
Franklin: Wow. So you brought in some documents and things. Would you like to—
Davis: Where’d we put them? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: I think it’d be really interesting to get those on video and to have you talk about some of those.
Davis: All right. They’re not super exciting. This is my dad’s birth certificate. The City of Miller which never was officially a city, in Lyon, Kansas. My father’s records were in the courthouse along with three generations of family records, and it burned down when he was about seven. So he had no birth certificate. And not too long after he started working here, they asked for his birth certificate—that he needed to get it. And he says, I don’t have one. So this is his newer birth certificate that they issued in May of ’42. He came in February so to May he had to get it. They sent an FBI agent out who interviewed his father, his uncle who raised him—his mother died when he was born so his uncle raised him—and his aunt. And they also used an insurance policy that was issued when he was 20 to verify that he was him.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So not everybody has all these affidavits and stuff at the bottom of their birth certificate, but this was from the FBI being able to verify. My great aunt was like, that was the weirdest thing. [LAUGHTER] Because back there, you just don’t have government people.
Franklin: Right. So they would have been out to the small town in Kansas, then.
Davis: Out in the middle of nowhere.
Franklin: To ask questions about her nephew.
Davis: That was one thing growing up in Richland. You were so used to the FBI coming to your door at least once a month, because everybody had different cycles for their clearances. They would always come to your door and ask, are they part of your—do they drink, do they do that? We talked to them all the time. It was never any big deal, because always somebody in your neighborhood was renewing their certification—their clearance. When I lived in Chicago, they came about somebody who was going to work for the Tennessee Valley Authority. It was my neighbor. My neighbors all slammed the door in their face. I talked to the guy, I opened the door, and I go, oh, yeah! It was security clearance. He goes, you’re the first one who’d talk to me. [LAUGHTER] I says, did it all the time when I was growing up.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: But it scares a lot of people.
Franklin: Yeah.
Davis: But I think they thought it was a little—because the war’s going on, they don’t know what’s going on and here’s these FBI people wanting to know about my dad. I think they’re going, what’s he doing?
Franklin: Yeah, is he a spy?
Davis: Yeah, did he get in trouble? And they’re not allowed to tell them anything. So they thought it was very, very strange when these suited men showed up.
Franklin: That’s great, that’s a great story. And it’s great to have the documentation here to—
Davis: You’ve already seen a million flood pictures.
Franklin: Well, that’s still a pretty—very scarring event for a lot of people, I bet.
Davis: Yeah, this was the flood of ’48. It came within a few blocks of where my parents were living at the time. Don’t ask which street that was back then, because they moved so much. But this was just a family picture of the Flood of ’48 that was so devastating. And then they put the dyke in.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: Here is—well, this one’s tiny. This is just a picture of any summer day in Richland. Everybody had kids. Most the families were young, so there was lots of kids. It was just—even when I was growing up was the same way in the ‘60s. There was kids everywhere. Riding bikes and running between houses, and you came in when the street lights came on.
Franklin: And I imagine not a lot of elderly people in Richland, right? And so that must have—because you would have had grandparents, but they would have been far away, or they wouldn’t be living in town. Whereas in Kennewick and Pasco people might have more extended families living near them.
Davis: Right. My grandmother came here to live with Mom and Dad not too long before she died. But, yeah, grandparents—if you were retired you couldn’t live in Richland.
Franklin: Right, right.
Davis: If you were not working for Hanford, you didn’t live there. So, yeah, there weren’t old people and most of the construction workers who came were young and all had young families.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So there were kids pouring out of every house.
Franklin: Yeah.
Davis: So this is—how many kids are in just—this is Mom and Dad’s front yard. And the kids played ball together, they ran and played tag. There were no fences, so all the backs of the yards were like one big yard.
Franklin: Wow. And probably still not a lot of trees at that time.
Davis: Not really.
Franklin: And when—can we look at this photo on the back?
Davis: This was 1948. So that’s only three years after the war. So, yeah, the trees are still—if you look around, you don’t see any trees.
Franklin: Right. Wow.
Davis: And here’s another one. This one would be—let’s see. This’d be ’46. No trees. There’s a bush. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: And this is one of your sisters?
Davis: This is my sister. Yeah. First day of kindergarten. But what I brought it for was the A house. See, they had the dark color on top—this one, I’m guessing, is probably the red one. And then the cream. They were all like that, they were all bicolored. We had cream and then one of the other three choices. You had green, red, and blue. That was it.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: The government supplied the paint. This is the house that I grew up in on Newcomer. It was the first spec house sold. We’re still getting our water lines.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: And my dog, Tippy. This isn’t the garage anymore; somebody’s changed it out. But we had—it was really fresh and new.
Franklin: And this was 1960?
Davis: ’60. Yeah, February of ’60 is when we moved in.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Mom says January of ‘60. I always think it was February but oh well. Halfway through kindergarten, I had to change schools. My siblings went, so? Because they had to change schools all the time.
Franklin: Yeah, not a lot of sympathy for you, I bet.
Davis: And this is my dad getting an award for what they called the Christmas Tree, which was the front of the reactor that had lights—indicator lights on it. I don’t know if it says exactly what he—just came up, yeah.
Franklin: He’s D. D. Smith?
Davis: Most people called him D. D. or Smitty. His named was Derald.
Franklin: Derald.
Davis: Derald. Like Gerald but with a D. Let’s see. Yeah, he was considered a pile operator. $185 was his award, which—like I said, that was a lot of money.
Franklin: A couple weeks’ wages, probably.
Davis: At least two or three weeks’ worth of wages. So that was a really big thing. Yeah, something about modifying the lights or something so they were easier to read. Apparently they thought it was a good idea. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. Do you know when that was? Was that during the war? Was this—
Davis: Since my dad never looked any different over a 40- or 50-year period, I’m not sure what date is on this. What was funny is on the back, I found my friend’s dad’s name on it. [LAUGHTER] And I went, oh! I’m kind of guessing this might be the ‘50s?
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: Early ‘60s? I’m looking at the ties.
Franklin: No, that’s good.
Davis: They had a paper that came out of the Areas. That was in that paper—the Area paper was a little fold-up.
Franklin: Yeah, we have a bound collection of a lot of the Hanford GE News and a lot of that. Let’s see this here.
Davis: 1944. This is my dad’s card for the International Union of Operating Engineers.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: And that was December of ’44.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: So this is still during the war.
Franklin: Yeah!
Davis: And this is the other part of the same thing, the International Union of Operating Engineers. Came out of Spokane. Got stamped; I guess for going to meetings. No, his dues, his dues and going to meetings.
Franklin: Makes sense.
Davis: Whoops. This isn’t for my dad; this is for my grandmother. I need to go show Kadlec this. [LAUGHTER] My grandmother got cancer and was in Kadlec Hospital for six weeks before she died.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: Here’s the total of her bill. $386.15.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: The operating room cost $8.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Anesthesia was $10. It cost more.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Lab, dressings—yeah, and she was there for six weeks before she died.
Franklin: Six weeks.
Davis: And that’s her bill. This bill was—yeah, written on the day she died.
Franklin: Okay. And what date was that?
Davis: 1946.
Franklin: Oh, okay. So she moved in, then, pretty soon after the war ended?
Davis: Yeah, and she moved to—
Hungate: And it’s billed through DuPont.
Davis: Yup. Oh, even I—I didn’t even notice that. DuPont.
Franklin: DuPont.
Davis: I don’t know of many people still have a bill from 1946.
Franklin: No. That’s a very interesting bill, though.
Davis: What is this one? Oh, this is just really bad pictures that they took—every year they had to have their pictures renewed. [LAUGHTER] That was—that had to have been a windy day, because his hair’s sticking up all over.
Franklin: Right, well, like you said earlier, they had thousands upon thousands of men to process.
Davis: Yeah, it’s like while you’re at work, and it’s just like get your picture taken, click, and you’re done.
Franklin: And this, on the front it says GE so—
Davis: Yeah, that would have been from after GE took over. I’d say from that picture from the ‘60s.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: What’s this one? Just a few little odd things I found in Mom’s—oh, just—from February of 1942, The University of Kansas School of Engineering and Architecture, Engineering Defense Training Program from—his certificate.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Yeah, this is—I’m not sure exactly what they taught him, or—he never talked about this. I knew nothing about this until I found this just this last week.
Franklin: Wow, interesting.
Davis: So I have no story to go with this, other than the date and it’s my dad.
Franklin: Right. So then he would have came out here very shortly after getting this, right?
Davis: Mm-hm.
Franklin: Interesting.
Davis: Like I say, when they told him to come out, they didn’t tell him why or anything. Just go to this place in Washington that you’ve never heard of.
Franklin Yeah, we have a job for you.
Davis: And you’re going to have trouble finding it on a map, even. [LAUGHTER] This is just a—it’s got—it says N Reactor Plant Dates—Data. Just about—I think it was a reference for them when they were working.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: It’s pocket size.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: So I think it was just a—yeah, decontaminating, water treatment—I think it was just a little reference thing that they kept in their—on their person.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: And then my dad was trying to get my uncle to move out here from Kansas. [LAUGHTER] And he wrote a letter describing wages, jobs. So, trying to get down to there. Let’s see. “They want patrolmen pretty badly. The pay isn’t as much as I make by about $18 a week.” But my uncle was single, never married, so it probably wasn’t any problem to him. And he says, “However it isn’t bad. You start at $58 a week.” [LAUGHTER] It says, a week. And after 30 days, after you’ve passed that, you move up to $60 a week. And then after six months you get $62.50 a week. Yeah, they were looking for patrolmen and firemen and a lot of the other stuff. And he asked—my uncle was in World War Two, and he asked if he had any training in anything specific that might be used out here. But my uncle stayed back in Kansas and eventually became a—because of being ex-military, he became a postman. Not a postman, a postmaster.
Franklin: Okay.
Davis: A postmaster in a little town. But he never did come out. I just thought the pricing—just thought it was interesting, because 58 bucks a week.
Franklin: That would have been—that’s a good chunk of money back then.
Davis: For my uncle, for what he was making in Kansas it would have been a whole lot of money. [INAUDIBLE] Oh, meals at the cafeteria average $0.75. It’s just littered with little stuff like that. He was trying to convince my uncle to move back out here.
Franklin: Right, wow.
Davis: What’s this? Oh. This was in a Kansas City Times in 1947. “Growing Town of Atom Plant Workers Is a Distinctive Sort of Community.”
Franklin: Mm.
Davis: So, that was kind of—you know. This is what, when people released—after the war’s over, people are starting to hear, now, what the heck was—[LAUGHTER] going on, and how different our towns were from towns that had been around for 100 years.
Franklin: Right. And that it’s completely government controlled and—
Davis: Yeah, and plants were far from town. You know, Dad would usually spend an hour on the bus going out to work, and we were in North Richland.
Franklin: Wow.
Davis: Yeah, but I think this is what my uncle had cut out and sent to him.
Franklin: Cool.
Davis: From Kansas. And the highest birthrates in the nation. [LAUGHTER] Because everybody was young. I was part of that major boom. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah. Wow, that’s neat. That’s neat that he saved that.
Davis: And my sister says—we were talking and she said, yeah, when you went to school, you stood up on the first day of school and said where you were from. Kansas, Oklahoma, Arkansas. When I went to school, we had all been born here. There weren’t any outsiders, I guess, because we were all born here.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: But during the war, everybody stood up and said where they were from. Because everybody was from somewhere.
Franklin: Right.
Davis: She says, there was a few—once in a while you’d run into somebody who says, oh, I was born here. And they’re like, oh. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah, oh, you’re an original!
Davis: Oh, you’re really strange! You didn’t come from the Midwest? Because that seems to be the biggest proportion came from the Midwest. Kansas, Missouri, Oklahoma, Arkansas.
Franklin: And Texas, too, there was a huge—but that’s definitely where they were pulling lots of people from.
Davis: And it was mostly by word of mouth as their job tended to—go to Washington. What are we going to do? Can’t tell you. Because I don’t know.
Franklin: Take this train to a place you’ve never heard of.
Davis: Yup. Any other questions?
Franklin: No, I think that was great. Thank you so much for sharing. I learned a lot of things that I didn’t know about, growing up here.
Davis: Oh, I probably—going to think of a million things driving home, I’m sure. Oh, I should have said—[LAUGHTER]
Northwest Public Television | Bush_Bob
Robert Bauman: I’m going to have you start just by saying your name, first.
Robert Bush: Okay, my name is Bob Bush.
Bauman: My name is Robert Bauman, and we're conducting this interview with Robert, or Bob, Bush on July 17 of 2013. And we're having this interview on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. And we'll be talking with Bob about his experiences working at the Hanford site. And so I'd like to start just by having you talk about how and when you arrived at Hanford. What brought you here?
Bush: Okay. During World War II, I was overseas. My parents were in the area, both of them working. My brother was also here in Pasco High School. When I came home from the service to Southern Idaho, Korean War broke out. Wages were frozen, and so I was looking to better myself. And I applied by mail. I was interviewed by telephone. And I came up here in 1951 to the accounting department, General Electric Company. They were the sole contractor. And for 15 years, in construction and engineering accounting, which was separate from plant operations at that time. And from there, my accounting career followed its path through several successive contractors. From GE to ITT, Atlantic Richfield, to Rockwell, and finally with Westinghouse. When I retired, I was with Westinghouse for one month.
Bauman: You said your parents were here during the war. When did they come out?
Bush: It was '43. 1943 and '44, my mother worked for the original postmaster of Richland, Ed Peddicord. And my dad was a carpenter. Built some of the first government houses called the Letter Homes. They were here about two years, I think. And then they went back to Idaho, I believe.
Bauman: Okay. And what part of Idaho?
Bush: Twin Falls, Idaho. Where I graduated from high school.
Bauman: Okay. What were your first impressions upon arriving in the Tri-Cities?
Bush: That's kind of interesting, Bob. Because I came up ahead of my wife and two--year-and-a-half old, and three-and-a-half-year-old sons. About two weeks ahead of them. And so I found a Liberty trailers to rent—the housing was nonexistent. And I found a Liberty trailer, which means it had no running water, no bathroom. It was like a camping trailer, basically. I sent for them. A brother-in-law who had graduated from high school went directly into the Korean War. He drove them up as far as Huntington. I went on a bus to Huntington and met them, came back. And as we came onto the Umatilla side, and I said, that's Washington. Well, there was no green and everybody was disappointed. But that's the first impression. I mean, there wasn't a bridge over the river in Umatilla. It was a ferry. So you drove around the horn at Wallula. Things were just really different.
Bauman: So you said you had a trailer. Where was--
Bush: In Pasco on a front yard of an old pioneer home, where Lewis Street crosses 10th. That was the end on Lewis Street at 10th. And from there west was called Indiana. And there was about three homes on there. And it just quit. And roughly across from the present day Pasco School Administration Building, which was a Sears building. Across the street there was where this home was. I mean, things have just—in the whole area—have changed so much.
Bauman: And how long did you live there then?
Bush: Until I was called for housing in Richland, which was six months. That was in June, no air conditioning. And finally got into an apartment building, a one-bedroom before with two little boys that slept in the same crib. It was still, basically, wartime conditions. Weren't any appliances for sale and you had to stand in line to get a refrigerator. It was a different world. But we were young, so we could take it.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And was this in Richland then, the apartment?
Bush: No, that was in Pasco. After that trailer, that was only about two weeks. And then we want into this apartment, the one-bedroom. Then we moved next door to a two-bedroom in a five-plex. And then in December, six months later, I got the first--I got a housing call from the housing office in Richland, which sat where the present day police station sits. And the lady offered me—she said, you could have it Saturday. It was a prefab. It had already been worn and pulled out. And I kind of hesitated. I said, I've already got something in Pasco. Well, she said, I could let you have a brand new apartment. That apartment was brand new. It was so clean. My wife, who was very fastidious, she didn't even have to clean cupboards. And the apartments have now been torn down by Kadlec for that newest building. And in fact, this morning I just went by and took a picture of Goethals Street, which is vacated. And it was quite a pleasant move to come out of a trailer into—a non-air-conditioned cinder block building apartment into a nice, brand new apartment with air conditioning, full basement, and close to work. And at that time, my office was downtown in the so-called 700 Area, which is basically where the Federal Building is--where the Bank of America is was the police station. And that's Knight Street, I believe. From there north to Swift, and from Jadwin west to Stevens where the Tastee Freeze was, that was the 700 Area confines. Probably about 22 buildings in there. The original thing prior to computers, everything was manual bookkeeping or accounting with ledgers. And they came out with a McBee Keysort cards, and it was called electronic data processing. It was spaghetti wire with holes in the boards, that type of thing. That building had to be a special airlock building. And that's the Spencer Kenney Building beside the Gesa Building. That building is built especially to house equipment. And they just went from there. And I moved around my office. And after 15 years, I went into what they call operations. I was onsite services, which—did that for 17 years. And that was probably the better part of--second better job that I had, I guess. The transportation and everything, onsite support services. The whole point there. That job took me all over the plant. I established inventories. I took some of the first inventories of construction workers' supplies and tools and shop equipment, rolling stock. My name was Mud. They thought so much of me they gave me a desk in the corner of a big lunchroom. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So you did work at various places then?
Bush: Yes. Well, yes. My very first location was in North Richland, then called North Richland Camp, where the bus lot was--the maintenance shops. I'm trying to establish a point up there—what's over there today? There's a big sand dune on your left going by the automotive shops, past the bus lot, where the bus lot was. Opposite that sand dune on the other side of Stevens was a bunch of one-story temporary buildings. That was North Richland Camp. And that's where my first accounting job was there for two or three years. I had been there—I came there in June. And in January of '52, had 22 people along in my department that I worked in. I was a junior clerk at that time. Took me four years to get onto the management roles, but I did. But anyhow, in that room they came in there six months later. After I'd only been here six months, AEC, predecessor to the OA. The AEC has taken over more management, more responsibility. So we're going to be laying off a lot of people. I had only been here six months. And so others grabbed straws and went different places. I always said either I was too ignorant or lucky, I don't know what. But I just sat still and it panned out for the better. I didn't get laid off. I moved from there. But I went downtown to the 703 Building, which stood where the Federal Building is now. There's a building to the rear that the city owns called 703. That was the fourth wing. 703 was the frame construction, the three floors. And the later years, they added a fourth wing out of block building. Made it more permanent. That's why it's still standing today. Now, that was my second location. And then I got on the management role in '55, which meant I went exempt and no more pay for overtime. And went out to White Bluffs site—town site, and that's where the minor construction was located. Minor construction, it's the construction people that are specially trained in SWP, radiological construction work, as opposed to run-of-the-mill construction. And they're the ones that had never had any accounting at all for any equipment, supplies, materials or otherwise. And that's where I had the lunchroom office experience. It so happened that they established--I brought an inventory procedure and established that first inventory during a strike. We had to cut government-owned tool boxes. But still, the workers thought they were private. And we had to cut locks in order to take inventory. And then we feared for our lives when they came back. Pretty rough day sometimes.
Bauman: What timeframe would that have been you were out?
Bush: That was 1955 to '56. A couple of years there, and then another person took over from there and I went into budgeting at that point, from accounting to budgeting. And I did that for--until 1963. And then I moved out to the so-called bus lot, which it was. 105 buses and all that. And I was out there for 17 pleasant years, budgeting, billing rate—Because we were the supplier of all plant services. So we had billing rates to the reactors, and the separations, and the fuel prep, and--whoever. The AEC, everything. We billed them, just as if we were like plumbing jobs. And that I enjoyed. That was probably my most productive period. And from similar work to that, I moved over—Let’s see, I was around when the Federal Building was built, but I didn't get into it. That was built in '69. I didn't get down there until 1980. Went down there a couple of years. And then they moved us out to Hanford Square where Battelle Boulevard intersection is. And I was there--I retired from that location in 1977. My wife and I retired the same week. I've been retired 26 years now at the end of this month.
Bauman: Was your wife working at the Hanford Site as well?
Bush: She worked after the kids were grown, like most stay-at-home moms do. She stayed until the daughter was of age, and then she went to work for a credit union, which was the government credit union, which was merged later on with Gesa. But that was an interesting job. They worked two hours a day, three days a week. Because it was all hand done, no mechanization. And then she got a job offer from the department in the central stores and purchasing department. She worked there eight years. In 1986, the income tax law changed a lot of things for all of us, effective in 1987. It meant that partial vesting was--IRS has to rule on all things like that. And that meant that if you had 10 years to vest pensions, once you pass the 50% point, whatever the vesting period is, then you were partially vested. And so she had 8 years out of 10. So she got 80%. But she had only worked eight years, so it wasn't a very large accumulation. Because I got my full. Of course, I'd been here 37 years I think it was, however that works out. 36.
Bauman: I want to go back and ask you—when you were talking earlier about that period in '55, '56 when you were working out at White Bluffs town site. You mentioned radiological construction?
Bush: Oh, that—those construction workers worked under what they called SWP, Special Work Permit, which meant radiological. They had to wear--the clothing was called SWP clothing then. Today, they call it something else. But they worked under those conditions, so therefore they were subject to different rules. Whereas, construction workers on brand new construction weren’t then—they didn't have any of that to contend with. But once a plant went operational, it became radiologically SWP. This is not an anti-union thing. It's just a demonstration of how things were in those days. They had some old buses that--the original buses in town were called Green Hornets. And they were small. They had chrome bars that went right across the middle of your back. And for 35 miles, that was not very comfortable. When they got the newer buses that you see today, like Greyhound has for instance, they relegated those to the construction workers at White Bluffs. Well, since GE guys worked up at White Bluffs, we had to ride those, too. So all the office workers in the warehouse--GE employees rode one bus. The electricians rode another bus. Pipe fitters rode another bus, even though there were only two or three of them. It was really a segmented-type thing. As close to anything radiological that I came to when I conducting one of those physical inventories—we would be out--all of the construction materials were stored outdoors on the ground. I mean, like stainless steel. 308 stainless steel was pretty high-priced stuff. But the sheets were stored outside on pallets. Well, one sheet is worth thousands and thousands of dollars. So we had to lay down on the ground and count the sheets to do the inventory. This one day—the only time I came close to any contamination, we went back and boarded the buses that evening from White Bluffs. And we saw the guys on the dock there chipping with a chisel and hammer. That meant they were chipping out flakes of contamination. So we asked what was going on. They said, well, we're next door to F and H Areas. And F Area had coughed out something they said. And so I said, well, my crew was outside today on the ground. And if they coughed out because all the--some construction workers could drive their cars. That's the only people. Plant operations people all had to ride buses. No parking lots. So anyhow, those cars were all impounded. Had tape around them. They couldn't go home. And some of the guys, they had to take off their shoes, leave them, and be issued safety shoes in lieu of it. And I said, well, we were on the ground, too. So they proceeded to take us all off the bus and surveyed us with a wand. And they only found a few flakes on our back. And so we were allowed to go home. But that's as close as I ever came to getting contaminated. It's still scary.
Bauman: Yeah. Obviously, Hanford, a site where security was prominent--
Bush: Very tight security, yeah. I was telling the young lady here that across the roadway on Stevens, as you near the 300 Area, there was a real wide barricade, probably eight lanes that you had to go through. And everybody had to stop, including buses. And the guard would get on the bus, walk down the aisle, and check every badge. And at that time, AEC had their own security airplanes. That was the purpose of the Richland Airport was for AEC security in the beginning. They had a couple Piper Cub-type airplanes. And one day we're on a bus going out to work in the morning. And all of a sudden, a plane just zoomed on by. Somebody had run the barricade. The plane goes out, lands in front of them, stops them, and that's how they got apprehended. Another incident of security, yeah, that's the subject? Many years later now, after 1963, and I'm in the transportation assignment. Airspace was off limits to all airplanes over Hanford because they had army artillery guarding it in the Cold War and all that. And a private plane had violated the space. And the AEC planes had forced it down. And once they're down, they can't ever take off. So after a week or so, they sent a lowboy trailer out there, loaded the small airplane on it, proceeded to come down what's the highway and now Stevens. And down where Stevens today, 240 and all that intersection is, there was only two lanes on the road then, not six. But at that juncture there, there was a blinking light. And they had to turn right to go to the Richland Airport. And this guy, the truck driver pulling this low-boy, he had never pulled an airplane before. And he didn't allow for that pull. Well, that blinking light clipped off a wing. And then he got time off. It was not really his fault, that pilot in the beginning. But there's a lot of—I guess full of interesting stories like that on security.
Bauman: Great. Did you have special security clearance to work at Hanford at the time?
Bush: Which?
Bauman: Any special security clearance?
Bush: Oh, yeah. I had Q clearance, which there's one higher than that, that's top secret. But Q clearance meant you could go into any and all areas. And because the nature of my job, I had that my whole time I was out there. Once you have it, they would tend not to take it away from you because it's quite expensive investigation to get it in the first place. I might mention something interesting in that regard. When I first came to work in 1951, why, the PSQ is Personnel Security Questionnaire. And it's about 25 pages long. And you had to memorize it, because every five years, you had to update it. Well anyhow, I filled that out, and you give references. And I have, in the Twin Falls area, a farmer that had been a neighbor farmer in Nebraska, where I was born, to my parents. I gave him as a reference because he had known me all my life. And that would be higher points. About a year or two later--I guess probably a year later I had gone back down to Twin Falls to visit the in-laws and I went and saw this farmer, family friend. The first thing he said to me, Bobby, what in the world did you do? [LAUGHTER] The FBI had come out to his farm and piled on the questions. And I hadn't told him ahead of time I'd given a reference. So they really did very, very tight security. It's probably tighter than it was when I was in the Air Corps.
Bauman: You mentioned riding a bus out to work.
Bush: Yeah, everybody rode it, except those few construction workers in that minor construction area. They were permitted their cars. I don't know why, but no one else drove cars on the plant. Everybody rode on the bus. The bus fare was--of course, it was subsidized. It was a plant operation, like anything else is. To make the liability insurance legal, they charged a nickel each way on the bus, which later on got changed to a dollar or something. But many of the years, we'd ride the bus 30, 35, or 40 miles to work for a nickel. The nickel was just to make it legal. From those old green buses, they came up with some--I forget what they're called. More like Greyhound buses. And then in 1963, the year I went out to the transportation, they bought a fleet of Flxibles. And that's F-L-X. There's no E in it. That's the same kind of flat-nosed bus that the bus lines used today. And they were coaches, not buses. They had storage underneath. And so we had quite a suggestion system on the plant. And you would get monetary award or mention. And somebody said, well, instead of running mail carrier cars delivering mail to all the stops on the whole plant, load the mail onto the now available storage bins on these buses. And that was a pretty good suggestion award, monetarily, to somebody. And they did that. Took it out to a central mail station out there, and then dispatched it.
Bauman: You mentioned different contractors you worked for over the years--
Bush: Uh-huh. The story behind that for the record is that General Elec--well, DuPont built the plant. That's who my dad worked for. And GE came in '46, I believe. And they were here until the group I was in--they phased out in groups. I was the last group to go out. [COUGH] Excuse me, in 196--'66. When the GE phased out, they had a dollar a year contract. Like Henry Kaiser and rest of them did during the war, for the good of the country. But they trained an awful lot of people in the infancy field of nuclear engineering. General Electric trained all those people here and then they opened up the turnkey operations in San Jose and Japan. But anyhow, AEC was still AEC at that point. And then, their wise decision--instead of one contractor, they would have nine. And so there were--the reactors was one. Separation plant was another. Fuel preparation at 300 Area was another. The laboratories, which is today basically Battelle. Site services. The company doctors formed a foundation called Hanford Environmental Health Foundation, which is the MDs that gave the annual exams. And the computer end, it was now getting into the infancy of that, computer sciences corps, we had the first contracts on that. So all together, there were nine contractors. And the portion that I was with went to ITT. They bid, came in and bid. I helped conduct tours of the facility for the bidders. Because I knew all about it and knew the ins and outs on some of the monetary parts that their accounting people would have questions on. We'd walk through shops and all that. Well, anyhow, ITT got the site support--site services. And we had that for five years. And austerity set in in the '70s. Well, '70. They said, we got to get site services' budget down to less than $10 million. And it probably was 13 or 14, I don't remember now. So my boss and another analyst, like myself, sequestered--talk about sequester. We sequestered ourselves in the then new Federal Building for about a week. Almost 20 hours a day, whittling and whittling and working on a budget. And there was only one conclusion. We had to cut everything in half. Went through all that sweat. Went up with our president, Tom Leddy, went upstairs to an AEC finance office, presented our whole case. And the man turns around and says, well, it doesn't make any difference, Tom. Your contract's not renewed anyhow. And so now, Atlantic Richfield, an existing contractor for 200 Areas, somehow the separations plant contractor that is an oil company owned, can all of a sudden manage a site service. And so they did absorb us. But politics were still around in those days. And there were three of us analysts. One had got transferred by ITT up to the new line--newly established Distant Early Warning Line from Russia up to Alaska. So that left two of us. And we waited around. We waited around and never got an offer. And they said, no, we can do it all without you. We don't need you. How come it took so many people anyhow? On a Friday afternoon, the man that I did budgets for saw me in a restroom. He said, you got an offer yet? I said, no, no. I'm working under the table with somebody else. Well, he says, if they don't hire you, I'm going to hire you. And so he went downtown, and about 4 o'clock, I got a call from the man that told me they didn't need us. Said they'd been kind of thinking. So I went over Atlantic Richfield under those. [AUDIO CUTS OUT] And so I'm not mad, not knocking—knocking them, that's just the way things were. And then Rockwell came to town. When they laid off everybody on B-2, I'm trying to think of other--in the community, something might be of interest for the history project. Back into the '50s. Those same green buses, they had, oh, four or five of them that ran in town like a modified transit system. I don't think they had that many riders, but it did. And also, the plant buses ran what they called shuttle routes. And those buses went into Richland on probably six routes and drove around the neighborhoods and picked up workers on the three shifts. And that's why up in the ranch house district, there was the bypass you'll see between homes. The pathways that go clear through lots. Blocks were so long that they had to provide a quicker route to the bus stops. Now, those rides were free because they were shuttle buses. When you got out to the bus lot, you paid your nickel, or a pass, whatever it was.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you about accounting in terms of equipment practices. Were there a lot of changes during the time you worked at the Hanford site? Computer technology come in and change things?
Bush: Oh, yeah. For sure. In the beginning, as I mentioned earlier, all accounting was open ledgers and hand posted. Adding machine tapes at the end of the day trying to balance them all out. And we had that until--let's see. 1970s—I think it was 1977, we got our very first taste of it. Every other desk in a group of about 20 people in cost accounting that I was in. There was cost accounting, general accounting, and so on, property management. But anyhow, we had about 20 people. Every other desk had a monitor. Well, they referred to them as a computer. But they were just the monitor. And down at the end of our building was one printer. And everything was on floppy disk. Every program was on a floppy disk. Nothing was built-in because it was just the infancy. The big computers were down in the Federal Building. And a sub-basement below the basement was specially built for that. But back to our office. Across the hall from us, we had two small computers that are--to me, they're about the size of portable sewing machines. And I can't even remember the names of them because they don't exist today but they were the computer locally. So we wanted to run our work order system, we would phone down to the guy down at the other end of the building, insert the floppy disk from work system and wait. Well, I've got somebody's inventory. You have to wait. Because there's only one place to load up down there. So finally, you would put the floppy disk in. And then, you'd run it, which meant it'd run through it and print. But then you'd have to say, now print it. And they got one printer for the whole building. And so it's pretty interesting. Whereas today, I've got a laptop that I can virtually do everything with. But we graduated from hand posted ledgers right into computers. We didn't have anything in between. All of the reports that came out, came out on--referred to as IBM runs because everything was IBM. It was on paper that's about 18 inches wide with all these little perf marks on it to feed it. And you'd get one report and it would be about that thick. It was not that much information, but it's just so much printing. It's even hard to remember after 26 years how antiquated that is compared to today. But prior to that, it wasn't even the PCs. They called everything a PC. Or, was PC compatible. Because prior to that, the only electronic data processing nickname was spaghetti wire. I'm not very conversant in it, but it was some kind of a board that had a bunch of holes in it. They put wires in it and that went to certain things. But all it did was sort things. It didn't actually calculate them.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you a little bit more about the community of Richland. What was that like in the 1950s? I know it was a government--
Bush: In the town? I guess I didn't cover that area. Everything—all houses were owned by government. We rented them. My wife and I and family, we came after the days of free everything. When the coal was free--all the furnaces were coal fed. Some people would convert them later on to oil. But anyhow, they were coal burning. However you got the coal, whether it was government days or you bought the coal from the courtyard, which is down at the end of what's now Wellsian Way. There was a coal yard where that lumber yard is. And that's why those railroad tracks that are abandoned and rundown, that's where the coal cars came in. And I can add something a little bit later about coal cars and the plant. But anyhow, we rented from the government. For example, that brand new apartment that I mentioned moving onto first was a two-bedroom, full basement. Steam heated because--I'll digress a little bit. All the downtown 700 Area, including the Catholic church, central church, the hospital, all 700 Area, including those new apartments, and all downtown shopping area were steam heated by a steam plant, which was located where the back door of the post office is today in that small parking lot. And that one plant furnished steam for everything. Well, back to this new apartment. The steam pipes ran through this full basement. And our kids played—there wasn't any yards. There was just apartments. And they would play in the basement because they were quite small. But they can remember today the pop, pop, pop in those steam pipes. And the rent for that two-bedroom apartment was higher than any other house in town. It was $77 a month. And the reason it was $77 instead of $70 was because it included $7 for electricity. Nobody had electricity meters yet. Even in that new place. So when they did put in electricity meters in all homes later, which had to be—during that time, the year we were there, which is December '51 to December of '52, sometime in that period of time they put the meters in. They took off $7 off the rent because now we're going to pay—and their theory is it was $5 for a one-bedroom place, whatever it was. $7 for a two-bedroom and $10 for a three-bedroom for electricity in those days. And nobody had electric heat, of course. And then, later on they put in water meters. And again, they had to come into your home, invade your home, and put in something. So it was strictly government prior to—well, another—and when I lived in the rental, if something went wrong with the plumbing, they would send out a plumber, but you paid for it, though. But later on when I went to the tall two-story, three-bedroom duplex houses, or called A houses, that was our first house after that apartment. And as I remember, I think the rent was--they had rent districts with low, medium, and high in the more desirable parts of town. And we were on Hop Street across from uptown district where Hunt Street is and Jefferson Park. And I think our rent for that was like $47 because it was not a brand new apartment. And later on, we—I was on the housing list. And you applied and months or years later, you'd rotate up to move into a nicer place or a different location. But in the meantime, up came an F house, which is a two-story single family, kind of a Cape Cod-looking type of house. And that came up on the housing list. However, the caveat was that you had to cash out the present owner who had made some improvements. He had converted the coal to oil, they put in a clothesline, which nobody had clotheslines, and something else. So cashed him out for—I believe it was $750. And if I do that, I could have it, so I did. We lived in that place for 19 years. Our daughter grew up there and got married out of that home. And that's the only home she ever knew. [LAUGHTER] And we were there until 1977 when the real estate market in Richland was—this is community wide. The housing prices were moving 18% a year, about 1.5% a month. And I thought well, I don't need to be setting still. I mean, if I cash out here, and went on. So we sold that home. I listed it. Calder, my father, was very ill. We were going to Spokane. I listed it. A man came by, looked it out. What were you asking? I said, oh, about 17. He shook his head. And I said, too high? He says, no, 27,000. [LAUGHTER] Just to show you how bad things were. And so it sold right away. What are you going to do now? And I said, well. Would you want to try a mobile home? I know a jewel. And in those days, real estate men did not sell mobile homes. But this couple had bought their first house from him, or something. And it was somebody retiring out of postal, wanted to go back to Montana. Never smoked in it, never had any pets in it, no kids. It was the Cadillac of mobile homes. We were there two years, but that was long enough. Then we moved into the house that I'm still in. I'm widowed now for five years. The house we're in now, we've lived in that longer than in any other place. [LAUGHTER] But the community just has changed so drastically. South Richland. People say today they live in South Richland. We lived in South Richland, which was south of the downtown shopping district to the Yakima Bridge. That was South Richland. What is now South Richland out there was Kennewick Highlands. So it depends on who you're talking to today.
Bauman: Yeah. Do you remember any special community events, parades, any of those sorts of things during the '50s and '60s?
Bush: Community events?
Bauman: Yeah.
Bush: Yep. Back in GE days, they had Atomic Frontier Days. And they were a big thing. Had beauty queens in it, rode in the float, and all that. Down at the—[COUGH] excuse me. For Atomic Frontier Days down at the lower end of Lee Boulevard, which is still the same shape today. They set up booths all on there. And it was a really big event. Before we had the hydro races even. People look back fondly on that. Talking about community, again, my mother, I said, worked for the post office, which—it stood on the corner of Knight Street, where it touches George Washington Way. There's some kind of a lawyer office building there today. And the old post office is the Knights of Columbus building on the bypass highway. But she would have to take the mail and go over to where the Red Lion Motel is today, at the Desert Inn, a frame building, winged out basically the same. And that was referred to as the transient quarters. And that was for upper management that were going through and it wasn't really a public motel, per se. But she would have mail for these big wigs over there. So she would have to go over there and have a badge to even go in the front door of that Desert Inn. Talking about badges, something humorous on that. We didn't wear things around our neck in the beginning because it was like a little pocket-sized bill fold. It was a little black bill that had your pass, your badge in it. And at every building you went into, you just pulled it out, flashed it to the guard. It usually was a lady security employee. There were guards in the building, but the person on the desk was a security clerk. But you'd just automatically—you’d open it like that and flag and put it back in your pocket. Every building you went into. Downtown, 700 Area, that first building I've referred to. One day I went into a restaurant and I just did that automatically [LAUGHTER] because it's just so automatic. Then they graduated to having the thing around your neck. And then also, if you worked in the outer areas, you had to wear a radiation badge in addition to your security badge. There was two types and one of them was a flat. And I don't know the difference. One's for beta and one's for alpha. I don't know. And one of them was a pencil shaped. And that's what they called it. And the other one was a flat badge, which was carried in something around your neck. And in all the areas I worked, and the places I described laying on the ground that happened and all that, my RAMs, they call it, never accumulated in my working life to be a danger. I had some, of course. Everybody does in the background. But I never accumulated to a danger point. There were people, some smart aleck people that would take their badge and hold it over a source at work so they could get some time off. Because if you got--what was the phrase? Anyhow, if they got contaminated, they put them on a beefsteak diet. And they stayed home. And they come every day and took a urine sample and all that stuff. But they had a life of riley. So that was nice. But the guys got canned that did that. But they would purposely expose their pencil so they could stay home.
Bauman: So did all employees have those, either the pencil or--
Bush: Only those that worked in reactor and separations areas, yeah. I mentioned these departments. Actually, the first department is Fuel Preparations Department, FPD. The present—the 300 Area--most of the buildings have now been torn down that you don't even see them there. But the north half roughly was fuels preparation department headed for the reactors. They took uranium and encapsulated it in cans, like can of peas in just so many words. And the south half of that 300 Area was a laboratory area, the predecessor of Battelle. So the fuel was prepared there. And it was machined and canned and sent as nickname slugs to the reactors. Then, the reactors loaded into all those little tubes. And then from the reactors, they come out the backside into those cooling pods and all that. And transported in casks to the 200 Areas, which are the separated area, separations. And the reactor area on the face side was not that dangerous. The 200 Areas only work on what they called the canyons, PUREX and REDOX, and those kind of buildings. But those cells were very, very hot. But you had to be measured no matter where you were. One of our site services was a decontamination laundry, called the laundry. And all clothing--I mentioned to you before SWP. Well, SWP, radiologic exposure employees wore whites. Carpenters and truck drivers and all that that didn't work around reactors wore blues. And so they were sorted. And we had different billing rates for that laundry because the blues only had to be laundered and dried. Whereas the others had to be laundered, dried, and decontaminated, checked in separate washing machines. And then workers wore—in the beginning, wore World War II-style gas masks for our air supply before they invented a moon-type suit. [LAUGHTER] But they wore gas masks. And the mask would come back to this mask station, which was part of the laundry. And they took the masks, and they'd take away the cartridge. They'd put the mask in dishwasher machines, in racks. That's how they would wash them. And then they would get them a new filter and package them up. Sanitize them and package them up like medical supplies would be in. I can't think of any other unusual operation out there like that.
Bauman: I want to change gears just a little bit. President Kennedy visited the site in 1963.
Bush: Yep, 1963.
Bauman: I was wondering--
Bush: When they did that, they let all the schools out. And for the first time, non-workers were allowed to go in cars out there. It was a grand traffic jam, but it was quite a deal. And he landed his Air Force plane up at Moses Lake—at Larson airbase at Ephrata, whichever you want to call it. And then helicoptered. And of course, like it is today, there were three or four helicopters. And you don't know which one he's on and all that bit. And here, everyone is gathered out the N Reactor area, which is a dual-purpose reactor. They captured the heat from the reactor, put it through a pipe through a fence to the predecessor to Energy Northwest, which was called Whoops. This was a big deal, a dual-purpose reactor. And N stood for new reactor, really. Anyhow, he comes in and they got a low-boy trailer. They fixed up down in the shops where I worked—my office was. And then built a podium just precisely for the President with him emblem and the whole bit. So I was privy to get to see some things like that. But anyhow, that was the stage. And it was a long low-boy, so it accommodated all the senators and all the local—Sam Volpentest, the guy credited with HAMMER, those type of people. Glen Lee from the Tri-City Herald, you name it. So the helicopter comes in, blows dust over everybody. But anyhow, my wife and kids and all schools were brought out there. And I don't know how many thousand people were out there in the desert. And you could see President Kennedy. He got up on the stage. You get close enough, you could get pictures. Then, that same year in November, he got assassinated. So that was a busy year.
Bauman: Do you remember any other special events with dignitaries like that? Or other--
Bush: Well, I could go way back to World War II. I wasn't here, but I have a family connection on it. All over United States, they had war bond drives for various reasons to help. Build a ship, build an airplane. The one that happened here is not the only one. But they took so much money out of all the paycheck of Hanford workers, which included my dad as a carpenter. And the money they collected bought the B-17 Bomber, which was named Day's Pay. And that bomber—they had a bomber out here, a B-17, so that people could see it, but it wasn't the same one. On the Richland High School wall there's a mural. And that's a rendition by a famous artist of Day's Pay in formation. And so I can say that my parents contributed to that. And that's the story behind that one bomber. Every worker out there, construction or operations, they donated a day's pay.
Bauman: I wonder, what was the most challenging part of your job working at the Hanford site?
Bush: As an accounting person, my most challenging part was learning government-ese. [LAUGHTER] How to deal. And in that vein, that took a long time. But once you learn it, there is a way in the US government, period. As I'm sure there is in certain corporations. Later on, when I mentioned that I went down to the federal building for my--finally got located in that building, there was another fellow and I were old timers in accounting. And that year, they had five college grads, accounting grads come in. They hired five at one time. And they ran them by Marv and I for exposure. This is how things are done. This is how the contacts are. And our basic job was to squire these young fellows around and introduce them to certain counterparts and now DOE. Now, this is how you make appointments with them. This is what you do. This is what you never do. And likewise, with senior management. And it paid off because of those five, all four of them became managers or supervisors, and one of them became my manager within two years. Today, that same man is the comptroller at Savannah River Plant. [LAUGHTER] And so I like to feel that I contributed to them being—partially to them being successful. And so that's a reward. But probably the most difficult thing coming from a private—I worked for Colorado Mill and Elevator, which means I worked at a flour mill district office as a bookkeeper. And that's a small town deal in Twin Falls. To come to work for the government where some of your family despises you because you work for the government, but you had to fight that as well as learn how the government operates.
Bauman: You mentioned earlier, you were talking about coal being used for heat in Richland. You also said you wanted to talk about coal fires going up at the site.
Bush: Oh, what?
Bauman: Coal fires?
Bush: Oh, yeah. Interestingly, the midway power station, substation at midway, is one of the reasons they built Hanford where they did because the Grand Coulee Dam had just been completed and an electricity producer—a major producer. And they put the midway substation down there. That basically was built to furnish huge amounts of power to Hanford, for the reactors, everything. Which in total—because I processed vouchers, I know it was 32 megs. Which today doesn't sound like much, but the whole plant bill was 32 megs when everything was operating. But if the power were interrupted, they had to have a backup. So every area had a huge diesel-powered--like water pumps, where they could pump the water from the river instead of by electrically. They had to be able to pump it because it was critical. Because all the water for the whole plant was taken in at intake water plants near the reactors along the river. The 200 Area water is piped to them in a huge line as raw water until it gets to their place. The backup is these coal-fired steam plants, is what I was trying to say. It got about 30-some cars of coal a day rolled through Richland past the cemetery. In the beginning, the railroad came down from the north, from Vantage area down along the Columbia River. There's a railroad bridge across the river, Beverly I think it is. And it came down to below the 100-B Reactor area. That's where the line ended. And then a plant had its own railway incidentally. It had a 285 mile-long rail line, high line and low line. Then, they built--in 1950, the year before I came, they built the line that we see today that comes from Columbia Center into Richland, by the cemetery. And it ends at the old bus lot area, where that railroad car Columbia Center into Richland, by the cemetery. And it ends at the old bus lot area, where that railroad car rebuilding outfit is now, there is a roundhouse that it's rectangular in shape. But some 30 cars of coal a day came in here to supply because those plants were—they actually operated the steam plants. They didn't start them up from cold. They just ran constantly.
Bauman: I wonder if you could provide sort of an overall assessment of how Hanford was as a place to work. What was it like as a place to work?
Bush: It was a great place for me. I came out of an area that was the agriculturally-oriented. And the Korean War started. Wages were frozen, you weren't going to go anywhere. I came up here and I got a new start, like pioneers did. I visualized that's what farming pioneers did the same thing. And it opened up a whole field for me, a big corporate field. And it's just been a great place to work. And it was not dangerous to me. I'm not afraid to drink the water here. I'm asked by a nephew in Hermiston constantly, how do you drink the water? And I said, well, it comes out of the river. How can it come out of the river and that plume’s out there? There's so many false stories around here. But working at Hanford, I think, by and large, almost all employees would tell you the same thing. It was a great place to work. The pay was decent. Maybe you didn't get rich, but it was decent. It's in a nice area to live in. When we came back in the '50s, or in the '40s, and before that even of course, shopping was pretty much nonexistent. They went to Yakima, or Spokane, or Walla Walla. That I didn’t—we didn't experience that too much by 1951 because by that time, the Uptown shopping district was built. And there was a men's store. And there was four women's stores. Because GE was the prime contractor, there was an appliance dealer that handled GE-Hotpoint appliances. We got employee discounts when we worked for GE. We also got 10% gasoline discount when we worked for Atlantic Richfield Hanford. But we just grew with the times. And it's just such an entirely different area now than it was. Just the world is different, too.
Bauman: Is there anything that I haven't asked you about? Is there anything you would like to talk about that we haven't talked about yet?
Bush: Now really, work-wise at Hanford, I think I’ve pretty well-covered it. I'll repeat myself. My first 15 years was construction engineering accounting, which is an entirely different field than operations accounting. Operations accounting concerns itself with the reactors and separations and the site services that support them. But I learned a lot by working at Hanford. My family, three adult children live here, are retired here. My oldest son went on Medicare this year. [LAUGHTER] And that kind of puts you in your place quickly. But it's been a good enough place that they stayed in the area. And of the six granddaughters, grandchildren, four of them are in the area. And that's kind of characteristic with a lot of the Tri-City families. They stay or come back.
Bauman: Well, Bob, I'd like to thank you very much for coming and talking to us today. I really appreciate it.
Bush: It's been my pleasure.
Tom Hungate: Okay.
Robert Franklin: You ready, Tom?
Hungate: Mm-hm.
Franklin: Okay. My name is Robert Franklin. I am conducting an oral history interview with George Boice on July 15th, 2016. The interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. I will be talking with Mr. Boice about his experiences living in Richland. So why don’t we start at the beginning, that’s the best place. When and where were you born?
George Boice: I was born in Ellensburg. A third generation native of the state of Washington. My father and my grandmother were born in Cle Elum.
Franklin: Oh, Wow.
Boice: We came through this—the tribe came through this territory and crossed the White Bluffs ferry in 1885. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Boice: And went up to the Kittitas County area. And then we came back later. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: What year were you born?
Boice: ’37.
Franklin: ’37. Did your family work at all at the coal mine in Roslyn?
Boice: Yes. [LAUGHTER] Short answers. My grandmother’s brother, Uncle Tony, was a mine rescue worker up there at Roslyn.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: You go up to Roslyn, that is interesting. Ever been there?
Franklin: Yes, I have.
Boice: 27 cemeteries. Just neater than all get out. [LAUGHTER] The different ethnic groups up there. They talk about one Fourth of July, the Italians were going to raise the Italian flag in the main street there. Some of the local citizens took a dim view of it. And some wagons were turned on their side and the Winchesters came out, and the sweet little old lady got out there and got everybody calmed down before the shooting started. [LAUGHTER] But the flag didn’t go up. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. So what brought your family down to the Hanford area?
Boice: My—[LAUGHTER] When they started Hanford—Dad was a firefighter in Ellensburg, had been for a few years. And when they set up Hanford, the first thing they did for a fire department was pick up the retired fire chief out of Yakima. Well, he goes around to the local fire departments and starts hydrating citizens. [LAUGHTER] So, Dad came down here in ’43 as the ninth man hired at the Hanford Fire Department. Always claimed that half of them had been canned before he got there. [LAUGHTER] So he went to work in ’43—June of ’43 at Hanford. We were still there at Ellensburg, and we didn’t come down here ‘til summer of ’44.
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Boice: And they were still moving prefabs in, and unloading them with rapid shape.
Franklin: Did your father commute at this time, or did he live on—
Boice: Uh-unh. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Where did he—do you know much about his living quarters or where he lived?
Boice: Yeah, there were barracks.
Franklin: So he lived in the barracks?
Boice: Oh, yes.
Franklin: Okay. Did he come back to visit at all?
Boice: Oh, yeah.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: Wasn’t but—hell, by the time you get up to the Hanford area, it’s just over the ridge. [LAUGHTER] So he’d come in every couple of weeks.
Franklin: Okay. How many siblings do you have?
Boice: One of each—one brother, one sister.
Franklin: Older, younger?
Boice: Oh, yeah. My brother was born in Kadlec in September of ’45. My sister was—well, they bracket the war. She was born about a month before it started—or right after it started. She was born in December of ’41.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: And he was born September of ’45.
Franklin: So can you talk a little more about your father’s job at Hanford? What did he—did he talk much about what he did, or—
Boice: [LAUGHTER] Oh, yeah! You know. The place is building up, it’s trying to erupt. You’ve got construction going all directions. Trailer house fires. He talked about them [EMOTIONAL]—how quick people died in them damn trailer houses. They’d go up in a matter of seconds. And there were acres of them. But yeah, it was—And the amount of nothing to do. I mean, you had time to work and then there was really no recreational facilities. He worked at a grocery store for a while in his off hours stocking milk. He said it was not unusual to work a whole shift with a forklift or a handcart walking out of the stack and filling the same slot behind the counter there. We came over twice to visit him at Hanford.
Franklin: Before you moved—
Boice: Yeah.
Franklin: --in ’44. Okay.
Boice: You drive across the Vantage Bridge, and somebody had gone through with a grader and graded out a dirt-slash-gravel road. And we drove around and down, and across the Hanford ferry into Hanford. Because you could get into Hanford; it wasn’t restricted—the town. Everything else was. So getting in and out of Hanford was no trick. Getting out of the surrounding area was. So my mom and I and my grandfather went down there.
Franklin: Wow. And where did you stay? Did you just go for the day?
Boice: Well, we didn’t—when I was there, we didn’t stay. We just went for the day and went home.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: But Mom talks about going down and staying overnight. [LAUGHTER] She says she was not warned. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Warned about what?
Boice: To keep everything you wanted nailed down.
Franklin: Oh.
Boice: She got up in the morning and somebody stole her girdle. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. So when your family moved in summer of ’44, where did you move to?
Boice: 17-1.
Franklin: 17-1?
Boice: That was the lot number and the house number. It is now 1033 Sanford.
Franklin: Ah.
Boice: It’s on the southwest corner of Sanford and Putnam.
Franklin: Yup. I live right by there.
Boice: We went in there and it was—they had—you can’t describe to people how they had come in there and just dozed the farmland over, staked out streets and planted houses. And hauled them in on trucks and set them down. We were fortunate—I didn’t realize how fortunate it was—in the fact that we had only come about 100 miles or so—we came in a truck. We had our stuff. Mom had her piano. And I can’t tell you how many times women would come up and bang on the door, can I play your piano?
Franklin: Really?
Boice: Strangers off the street. Just because it was there, and it was—so we had all kind of musical stuff. Everybody could play better than Mom could. But we had the piano.
Franklin: Wow.
Boice: And she had her houseplants. It was different. But there was no trees in Richland. There wasn’t three blades of grass! [LAUGHTER] You’d come in, you got a garden hose and a plastic nozzle. You hosed down your lot and it immediately became a slick, slimy mud pile. Great for kids to play in! Man, we could slide in that mud across there—it was really cool! And then when it dried up, why, it reticulated like a picture puzzle. So we’re picking chunks up and stacking them up and building houses. And Mom gets up and she’s just madder than a wet hen, so we had to put the lawn back together. [LAUGHTER] But the hose nozzles were so interesting, because when you had a plastic nozzle, but you couldn’t get anything else. There was a hardware store here, eventually, but they didn’t handle stuff like that. This was a war going on. And the ingenuity that went into lawn sprinklers would just boggle your mind! The cutest one I remember was some guy took a chunk of surgical tubing—he got a bent pipe for an uppensticker. And he stretched his hunk of surgical tubing over the end of it, turned the water on, and it was not efficiently watering his area, but he could flail water all over a half an acre! [LAUGHTER] That was one of the cuter ones. There was also no shade and no air conditioning.
Franklin: Right.
Boice: Coming down in a moving truck, Dad brought his carpenter tools, he brought his bench, and he set to work building an air conditioner. Now, this was the dog-gonedest thing you ever saw. He got some burlap sacks and set out there with scrap lumber in the backyard on his workbench just creating shavings out of boards. Fill these burlap sacks with wood shavings for the pads for his air conditioner. He got a motor out of I-don’t-know-what. It was an appliance motor out of something. And he whittled out this propeller out of a two-by-four. And he cranked this thing up and it sounded like a B-29. [LAUGHTER] But it would blow sort of cool air, which raised the wrath of the neighbors. Number one was the racket he was making. Number two was we had air conditioning. So immediately, guys come out of the woodwork in all directions. Guy next door was a sheet metal worker. He came home with parts to make a much better, more efficient fan that was quieter. [LAUGHTER] So they set to work building him one. [LAUGHTER] We made air conditioners—you come up with a motor, and they would come up with an air conditioner. And we would deliver them on the back of my little red wagon. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Where would you put that? Like, would that just go in the window?
Boice: We put it in a window.
Franklin: Oh, okay. And how would you attach it to the house?
Boice: Ingeniously! Most often, they would just build a rack underneath, a shelf on top, and set it up on top there. A houses, you wanted to put your air conditioner—at least about everybody did—set it at the top of the stairs where it would blow out the upstairs and cool your downstairs. They were reasonably efficient. The one thing about all the homemade air conditioners—very few of them, if any, had a recirculating system. So you had to use fresh water. This had two sides to it. You didn’t crud up your water system with alkali by reusing your water. But you did have to go out there and keep moving your hose where it drained out to water your lawn.
Franklin: [LAUGHTER] Wow. What kind of house did your family move into?
Boice: Well, originally we had a three-bedroom prefab. Prefabs come in three sizes and five colors. And a bunch of very ingenious kids on Halloween 1944 went out and stole the damn street signs. The buses coming back off of swing shift had no earthly idea where they were going. They wandered around town, because all the houses looked alike! [LAUGHTER] Then after a while—oh, let’s see, we moved in in August, and about the following spring—because we started out school at Sacajawea and then at Christmas vacation they changed us to Marcus Whitman. But up there on Longfitt, thereabouts, I was coming home from school and here sits the roof of a prefab right out in the middle of the street. Apparently, this guy was sleeping and a windstorm come along and picked up his whole roof and set it out in the middle of the street. Thereafter they had a crew of carpenters going around fastening the rooves of the prefabs down a little tighter.
Franklin: Because at that time, right, they had flat rooves.
Boice: Flat rooves.
Franklin: Correct? That kind of overhung a bit, something that the wind could really easily—
Boice: Oh, yeah.
Franklin: --grab ahold and pop off. Do you remember when they got the gabled rooves that they all have now?
Boice: No, I don’t, because I was—I think after we left, but I wouldn’t bet heavy money on it. We moved off the prefab in ’45.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: And into an A house on Swift. I don’t recall when they put the gabled rooves on.
Franklin: Okay. So what did your mom do? Did she work at Hanford at all?
Boice: No.
Franklin: No?
Boice: She was a stay-at-home mom.
Franklin: Stay-at-home mom?
Boice: It was such an interesting place. The buses ran every 30 minutes. No charge, just go out and get on the bus. One of my main jobs was—because there was no mail delivery, everybody in Richland got their mail general delivery. So I’d take the bus, go downtown, get off at the post office, check the mail, go down to the grocery store—and there was only one—that was a brief period, but then there was only one grocery store at that time. And that’s where that ski rental shop is—kayak rental shop on the corner of Lee and GW?
Franklin: Mm-hmm.
Boice: That was the grocery store. The one and only. Shortly thereafter, Safeway opened up on the corner of—southwest corner of Lee and Jadwin. So things picked up. And then there was—they come up with the community center grocery store—whatever you want to call them. There was one at Thayer and Williams, which was the Groceteria. Garmo’s was out there on Stevens and Jadwin—no, Symons and something-or-other. The south end of town was—oh, nuts. He was the one that survived—Campbell’s. Campbell’s grocery store. He specialized in fresh fruit and stuff, and of the whole pile of them, he was the one that really come out of it in good shape. But the fourth one is now the school office, up there by Marcus Whitman. That was a grocery store.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: But you go down, you do your post office work, and then you go and get your groceries, and if you’re lucky you get ten cents. Next bus home. You know where the Knights of Columbus Hall is out on the bypass?
Franklin: Mm-hmm.
Boice: That used to be—originally that was the Richland post office.
Franklin: Mm-hmm.
Boice: It’s up there at Knight and GW, I think. There wasn’t a whole bunch of shopping centers. The Richland Theater was in existence. The drug store next door to it was there. After a while, the big brown building, which was everything, at that time, when it opened up it was CC Anderson’s. Then there was the dime store, and, oh, we were hot and heavy then. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Can you tell me a little more about your dad’s job? What would a typical day or a typical week look like for someone who worked on the fire department?
Boice: On the fire department, there is no such thing as typical. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah.
Boice: It was wild. In the beginning, they opened up—they were on shifts. Like everything was on day shifts, swing shift, graveyard. In our neighborhood, after my brother was born, we moved down to Swift and McPherson. Dad had come into town by that time. If you go behind the Richland Theater, you look real close, there’s two B houses back there. One of them’s a real B house and the other one ain’t. You look at the B houses over here, and the other one that ain’t is over here. And you look real close at the driveways. That was the original fire station that the City of Richland had going. That was the fire station when Hanford came in. Then they built a fire station on Jadwin in conjunction with the housing building and a couple other things, right across from the 700 Area, which is what they wanted, was coverage on that 700 Area. So that was the downtown fire station. And when they opened that up, why, then Dad came up out of Hanford.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: He wasn’t too long there, and they opened one up Williams off of Thayer, in behind the Groceteria and a little service station up there with a small satellite fire station. Two trucks and one crew. Dad was there for years and years and years.
Franklin: How long did your dad work for Hanford or the government here?
Boice: Like I say, he came in in ’43 and retired in the early ‘70s.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Boice: Rode her right on through.
Franklin: So what did he do when the community transitioned in ’58?
Boice: They bought him!
Franklin: The City of Richland did?
Boice: Yup, the City of Richland bought the outstanding time and he rolled right over.
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Boice: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So can you talk a little bit more about growing up here? You said you went to Marcus Whitman and then to—and then what other schools did you go to?
Boice: Well, like I say, there was no shade.
Franklin: Right.
Boice: And very few radio stations. With a good shot you could get in Yakima, Spokane, and Walla Walla, and that was about it. So we sat around in the shade, and my mother read us stories. [LAUGHTER] One of them was a book we picked up in Walla Walla about Sacajawea. She read us the entire story of Sacajawea and the Shoshones and the Lewis and Clark Expedition, et cetera, et cetera. And in ’44, they opened up Sacajawea School. Now, as everybody does, they did their darnedest to convert us kids to saying Sah-CAH-jah-wee-ah. It didn’t take. [LAUGHTER] Because there was already Sacajawea State Park and everybody was using the term Sacajawea. But Sah-CAH-jah-wee-ah—they tried. They gave it their level best. It didn’t take. But the time that they were doing this, Miss Jesson was a teacher there was giving us the thumbnail sketch about Sacajawea. She did a pretty good job—well, you know, she told you what she knew. And she made mention of the fact that she was married to a trapper, but they didn’t know what his name or anything about him. I says, his name was Toussaint Charbonneau. He got her off a wolf man of the minute carriage for a white buffalo robe. My status went up. [LAUGHTER] And the teachers wanted to know where in the cat hair I learned that. Well, Mom read us the book. But I’ve always liked Sacajawea School. Just kind of a kinship. We went—in ’45, they opened up Marcus Whitman. We went there ’45 was all, because when they broke for the summer, we were over by—we moved. By the next fall we were over in the area where I could go to Sacajawea again. But we were going to Marcus Whitman when Roosevelt was shot—died. So that was the event of the time. You watched the transition of one President to another. The flag ceremony—the whole thing—it was interesting for a kid.
Franklin: I bet. What do you remember about during the war years that kind of focus on secrecy and security? How did that affect your life and your family’s life?
Boice: You didn’t talk to nobody about nothing! [LAUGHTER] I mean, that was just the words. You didn’t talk about—if somebody asks you what your dad does, you talk about something else. It was so interesting here in the last year, I think—time goes quicker now. A whole bunch of us from that neighborhood on Swift went to a funeral—this boy’s mother—well, yeah—Bill’s mother’s 100th birthday, after the funeral they had a sit-down dinner. I happened to sit down at the table with the whole kids of the old neighborhood. And we’re talking about all this stuff, and the secrecy, and the ones you watch out for—this girl over here. Yeah. She didn’t share the secrets with the neighbors when they were talking about who’s got butter on sale. They didn’t tell her anymore. She fried her food in butter. So no one would tell her where the butter sales were when it was available. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Was there any mention of the work going on at Hanford at school that you can remember?
Boice: The one thing of what was going on, and it wasn’t the work at Hanford, because nobody talked about that. But when the Japs were sending over the firebombs—
Franklin: Yeah, the balloon bombs.
Boice: Yes. We were told to write no letters, tell nobody, because they didn’t want it to get out how blinking effective they were.
Franklin: Right. The fear of these bombs from the sky—
Boice: They were hitting, and they were working.
Franklin: Yeah.
Boice: You guys are in the right position to find out. But there was a rumor going around that a balloon-loaded Jap had landed out there in the area and they caught him and bundled him up and carted him off before they did any business. Okay, la-di-da-di-da. There’s rumors about one thing and another. And four or five years ago, CNN or one of these, they were talking about the weather balloons. They showed the colored pictures taken out here at Hanford of the balloons landing in the BPA lines and burning up. [LAUGHTER] End of speech, end of story. [LAUGHTER] But I was surprised to find out that something had happened. There was no soldiers attached or anything else, but there was an incident.
Franklin: Yeah, we’ve—there are a couple confirmed reports of—we actually did an oral history with a gentleman whose father had been a patrolman and had seen one of the balloons land and had to chase it down and didn’t realize right away that it was—had explosives attached to it. The others—there’s a couple reports of them touching down onsite. And there was a family that was killed in Idaho where they were picnicking and a balloon came down.
Boice: Idaho or Oregon?
Franklin: I think it was—oh, that’s right, maybe it was Oregon.
Boice: K Falls.
Franklin: Yes.
Boice: You go to the museum in Klamath Falls had the—or when I went through it—I was working down there twenty years ago or so—they had a big display of the family that was picnicking and the kids went to prod on it, and it went off and killed a girl.
Franklin: Yeah. Were there—when you were—so we’re still in the World War II era and we’ll definitely get to the Cold War in a bit—but were there any kind of—what do you remember about like emergency procedures in school? Was there anything special, kind of drills or something during World War II?
Boice: You mean the duck-and-cover?
Franklin: Yeah, that kind of stuff. Was there any duck-and-cover during World War II?
Boice: Oh, yeah, oh, yeah. Of course—my kindergarten days—now, man. Lived across the street from the college there at Ellensburg, and firebombs were to be worried about. But I was covered. I had a bucket full of sand and a shovel, and it was there on the front porch. When the firebomb came through there, I was going to put my sand on it. So we were prepared. God help us if it landed any place else. [LAUGHTER] But the beginning of the war when I was a kid in Ellensburg was so funny, because we were living right across the street from the college and everything was just the standard college. And the war started, and immediately, there’s all these people running around here that can’t count. Hup, two, three, four. Hup, two, three, four. I wasn’t even in kindergarten, and I knew about my ones! [LAUGHTER] And there was—you go across the street and around the corner, and there was this one half basement room where I could stand there and watch the guys play shirts-and-skins basketball. And the next time I looked, here’s a skeleton of a single engine aircraft, and a guy instructing people on how to make dead stick landing. Now, of all the damned things for a four-year-old kid to remember, dead stick landings was what he was talking about. And they had this thing skeletonized where they could show the internal workings of all the aeronautics.
Franklin: Wow.
Boice: But in Richland—oh, yes. Duck-and-cover fire drills. But they never talked about nuclear, because it was yet to be discovered. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Right, right. So Ellensburg then quickly became inundated with—the state college there became a training area?
Boice: Oh, yeah. Just that fast.
Franklin: Wow. In your notes here, I also see you mentioned about the heavy military presence and the olive drab everywhere and the cops in Army uniforms.
Boice: [LAUGHTER] It absolutely was. Richland was strictly OD. I think they only had one bucket of paint. But all the vehicles were olive drab. The buses were, on today’s standards, I’ll call them a three-quarter size school bus painted olive drab. The vehicles were anything they could scrounge up, because I remember two GIs in a ’37 Chev coupe, and I know today some farmer had taken the trunk out and made a pickup box out of it. But they scrounged this thing up someplace, painted it OD, and here’s the MPs running around in a ’37 Chev pickup. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: [LAUGHTER] A homemade pickup?
Boice: Yeah. It was years later that I found out—Dad didn’t say anything about it, and he certainly knew—that it was simple, because the war was going on. Everything was prioritized. But they had unlimited supply of uniforms. So they put the cops in soldiers’ uniforms; the firemen were in Navy uniforms. The firemen stood out and were very easily recognizable, but you couldn’t tell the soldiers and the cops apart, because they all had the same stuff on. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. A couple oral histories we’ve done with people that were children in Richland, a couple of them mentioned their fathers had taken them onsite somewhat clandestinely. Did your father ever take you onsite into a secured area?
Boice: No.
Franklin: Did you ever get access to any of that some way?
Boice: No, I did not go to any secured area.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: I was raised running in and out of fire stations. To this day, when I go through the door of a fire station, my hands go into my pockets. You’re allowed to touch nothing. Because you leave fingerprints. [LAUGHTER] It’s just a genuine reflex.
Franklin: Yeah! So you said that you went to Sacajawea, then to Marcus Whitman then back to Sacajawea. Then where did you go to high school?
Boice: We went through all of the—I’ll call it the school construction. They couldn’t build schools fast enough in Richland.
Franklin: I bet.
Boice: We had double shifts. Now they have these temporary quarters—whatever you call them. But we had hutments. Sacajawea had six hutments out there. They built the hutments, and then they went to double shifts. So you went to school at 8:00, and at noon they marched out, teacher and all, and our class marched in, and we went home at 4:30 or 5:00, something like that. So we went through all of that, and then in ’49, they opened Carmichael. A brand new junior high school, man, this is cool! And I was in the seventh grade in Carmichael and I are still the proud possessor of ASB cord 001, 1949, Carmichael Junior High School. The first one they ever gave out. [LAUGHTER] And that was neat, to have a real hard-built school. It was—oh, we had class. After three months, we moved to Kennewick. The Kennewick school system—
Franklin: Your family did, or--?
Boice: Yeah!
Franklin: Oh, okay.
Boice: Dad stayed in Richland, but they were selling off. And if you didn’t have priority, the houses went to the guy that was there first. And in that A house, we were in second, so we were not in line to buy the house.
Franklin: Right.
Boice: So, Dad got a piece of property in Kennewick and we moved to Kennewick. And what a school system mess.
Franklin: Why?
Boice: They were behind. They couldn’t get money quick enough. They couldn’t build stuff fast enough. They had the red brick building—forget what it was called. It had been a high school at one time, and they pressed it back into service. It was so overcrowded you couldn’t believe it. But they finally built the high school that’s there now. It opened in ’52, I believe. ’51—yeah, class of ’52 was the first one to graduate—’52 or ’53. Graduated from Erwin S. Black Senior High School. And it was Erwin S. Black Senior High School one year. Because he was the school superintendent, and they built the school—they named the school in his honor because he had gone to bat and made trips back and forth to Washington, DC to cash some money to use for the school system. Then they got in a shooting match with the Tri-City Herald. [LAUGHTER] And Erwin S. Black and the schoolboard got run out of town, and they chiseled his name off the front of the school. But for one year it was E.S. Black.
Franklin: And then it just became Kennewick High School.
Boice: It became Kennewick High School.
Franklin: Can you talk a little bit more about this disagreement between Erwin S. Black and the schoolboard and the Tri-City Herald?
Boice: It was several things. One of them, there was a book—and I can’t recall—Magruder? McGregor? Somebody. It was a history book, and it mentioned communism. And that was brought up and made a big deal. This was back in the McCarthy era.
Franklin: Right.
Boice: That was brought out. And there was a lot of talk—Black was a certified building inspector, and he inspected the construction of the high school. It was said by a lot of people that it wasn’t up to standards; that the concrete wasn’t what it should have been. And I don’t know what the specs were. I wasn’t into concrete work at that time. I have been later. But I know when we were hanging the benches in the ag shop, where you would put a concrete anchor in the wall ordinarily and it would hold, they didn’t there. And they had to through-bolt through the wall to get to things to hang. So there was—and transfer of equipment and stuff—this was swapped for that, and that was swapped for this—and I don’t remember that, and the only guy I know that did know has died. [LAUGHTER] But one of the kids that graduated from Erwin S. Black, one of the few that was in that class, worked with him off and on and was aware of what went on.
Franklin: When you said that there was a book that mentioned communism, did it mention it in a favorable light, or did it just make a mention to communism?
Boice: More or less, it just made a mention.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: I was on the—oh, we had the open house at the school, and I was one of the tour guides. Yeah, I showed them the book and what it had to say. And I don’t recall anything drastic.
Franklin: So then did you graduate from Kennewick High School?
Boice: No. [LAUGHTER] The military had a hell of a sale. Anybody that enlisted by the first of February got the Korean GI Bill of Rights. And those that enlisted afterwards didn’t. So I drug up in January and joined the Air Force.
Franklin: Oh. Without graduating.
Boice: Without graduating.
Franklin: Okay. Interesting.
Boice: So I served my illustrious military career in a photo lab in Mountain Home, Idaho. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: And how long were you in the Air Force?
Boice: Two years.
Franklin: Two years, and then you were discharged?
Boice: Yes, yup, yup.
Franklin: When you were in school, you mentioned being in school during this McCarthy era, one of the real hot points of the Cold War. Can you talk a little bit about the civil defense procedures and kind of the general feeling of that time as it related to—because I imagine with Hanford so close, and now knowing what was being produced there, that would have been a likely target. It’s a major part of the nuclear weapons stockpile. So can you talk a little bit about that time and just the general feeling?
Boice: Well, you knew what was going to happen—or what they said was gonna happen. It was the duck-and-cover thing. And we had drills. A lot of what they said what was gonna happen—now they talk about getting into water to modulate it. Then, it was one of the things that they didn’t want you to do. Because we had the irrigation ditch that was running right alongside of the schools. But then they didn’t want you to get into it. So, it’s changed. They had the civil defense procedures—Radiant Cleaners, they’re in Kennewick. They had panel delivery cleaner trucks. They were rigged for emergency ambulances. They had fold-down bunks in them; they could handle four people. [LAUGHTER] It was taken serious.
Franklin: Did you feel any particular sense of worry, or did it not seem to really affect you, your daily life or your psychological—
Boice: It never bothered me ‘til years afterwards. When they talked about the Green Run, where they turned a bunch of that stuff loose, just to see what it would do to the citizens and count the drift on it. The people that had—the down-winders, and the people that had the thyroid problems. My sister was one of the first rounds that went to court over that.
Franklin: Really?
Boice: Because she was—we moved into Richland. She had her third birthday in the prefab, when they were still practicing how to build this stuff. And then we moved in on a farm where the alfalfa grew, the cow ate it, gave them milk, and everything was recycled and nothing went over the fence. And so it bothered me, then, that they used us as guinea pigs. But the other hand, they really didn’t know what in the cat hair that they were doing in a lot of cases. The nuclear waste? You’ve heard about the radioactive rabbit turds.
Franklin: I have.
Boice: You have?
Franklin: Yes, I have, but why don’t you mention that?
Boice: I was working with Vitro out here—’72, I think it was. The radioactivity, of course, is settled on the sagebrush. And the rabbits went around eating the leaves, just leaving fat, dumb and happy, and concentrating everything into the rabbit turds. And they were contemplating taking the top six inches of about two or three sections and burying it. Only they couldn’t decide where they had to build the hole. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: When you—you mentioned just a minute ago that you were on a farm, and you had the cows that would have eaten the tainted alfalfa—was your milk ever tested? Or did anyone ever come and--
Boice: Nah. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: test your—Were you ever tested for—or your family, anybody in your family, ever tested for radiation? Because I know that they, at one point, had those Whole Body Counters that they would test—some children in Pasco were tested through those machines?
Boice: You ever been through a Whole Body Counter?
Franklin: I have not been through a Whole Body Counter.
Boice: Depending on where you’re at, there may or may not be a—they’re kind of a joke. Now, when I was working here at Vitro, we went through the Whole Body thing, and they were serious. I mean, before we got cleared out, we went through the chamber, and we were counted. I went to work in South Carolina. They—as far as I was concerned—were very sloppy with their radiation handling and their checking and their radiation monitoring. We had a hand-and-foot monitoring station where we was going in and out of. You stick your hands in and they check it, and your feet were there at the same time. Well, this one time, I come up pretty hot, so I found an RM. I says, that machine gave me a bad reading. Oh, he says, that machine’s no good anyway. Come around to this other one over here and we’ll check you out. Well, if the blinking thing’s no good, why in the cat hair are we using it?! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So, just a second ago, you mentioned you were working for Vitro?
Boice: Uh-huh.
Franklin: What is or was Vitro?
Boice: What was Vitro? Okay. Vitro Engineering—and I don’t know how many times the name changed hands. But these guys were the ones that laid out the City of Richland—laid out the Hanford Projects. These were the strictly insiders. There was pictures on a wall of my grade school buddy’s dad, who I remember being a surveyor in Richland there. And these guys—this has gone on forever, and they were a pretty dug-in organization. To the point that they were not really aware that there was a world outside the fence. They’d heard about it, but they weren’t too sure it existed. [LAUGHTER] But I ended up at Vitro, and we did the Tank Farms that they’re having problems with, the hot tanks? We were in on the modification of that farm. We surveyed in there quite a bit. Whenever they show the pictures on TV, they always show you the evaporation facility. They show you that same picture. Warren Wolfe and I—I say Warren and I—it’s a little—our crew brought that up out of the ground, and we modified the tank farm, and we laid out the construction on that building from the ground right through the top.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: And I was very fortunate, because all my surveying experience to that point was with the railroads and pipelines and longline work. Construction surveying was new to me. And I got throwed in with an old boy that was good at it. [LAUGHTER] And I learned a bunch working with him. And rolled right over, later on, into Hanford, too. We got in on the end of that—[LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Hanford II?
Boice: Yeah.
Franklin: Oh, as--T-O-O. And which building was this that you and Warren Wolfe and your crew built?
Boice: All I remember is the evaporation facility.
Franklin: What was your specific job at Vitro? Were you a surveyor?
Boice: I was a surveyor. I was an instrument man. You get in the hot zones—we got inside the Canyon Building on several different occasions. And you got suited up, and I was instructed very specifically and emphatically to touch nothing, because anything that got crapped up, they kept. And we couldn’t get the instruments crapped up. But that stuff was so hot that the paper—the Rite-in-the-Rain books have got a specific paper there that has pitch in it or something—it attracts radioactivity like a sponge. And when they kept the notes, then one of us would stay inside and the other guy would get out in the clean zone, and we’d have to transcribe all the notes, because that book was so hot that they wouldn’t let it out of the area. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow.
Boice: There was some weird stuff going on.
Franklin: Any other—
Boice: Yeah, but there’s some I ain’t gonna talk about. [LAUGHTER] Okay. We came so close to having a nuclear disaster, it wasn’t even funny. We were good. We were awful good. And we were fast. And we were set up out there on an offset, and Rosie the labor foreman come over. Somebody said you needed a shot here for a hole for a penetration into the tank. Man, we whipped that out and figured the pull and what it was gonna take. Swung over there, put a distance and an angle, drove the stake in the ground. I figured that Warren checked it, and away we went. We come back in a week or so, or a few days later, we were back in that same farm. And Rosie comes over there and he says, would you guys check that again? Because these guys was digging a hole there and they’re supposed to hit a tank. And we checked it. And I lied, and Warren swore to it. [LAUGHTER] We forgot we was on a ten-foot offset. So they’re digging clear to one side of this tank, and just good solid dirt. Had we been just half as screwed-up as we were, they would have gone right down the edge of that tank with a core drill. And we’d have had ooey-gooeys all over the place. They talked to us. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Kind of a happy accident, right?
Boice: Yeah, we were—I’ll never forget Warren’s work. He’d come back with the boss and he says, name me one guy in this world ever got through this life being perfect. He says, always pissed me off, he’s a damned carpenter. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So you went to—you joined the Air Force, you went to Idaho for two years. When you came back—or what did you do after that? Did you come back to Richland after?
Boice: We were living in Kennewick.
Franklin: Living in Kennewick.
Boice: And I was working at the Washington Hardware Store. And this kid—we were working on cars in my buddy’s garage. And this guy comes through and he’s surveying for the Corps. And he talked that they were setting up a photogrammetry section. Well, heck, that’s what I was doing in the service. So, I beat feet over to Walla Walla to sign up to lay out photo mosaics. And they say, we haven’t got enough work for fulltime at that job. Are you a draftsman? No, I are not a draftsman. He says, would you take a job surveying? You bet. I became a surveyor. [LAUGHTER] And we worked from the mouth of the Deschutes River to Lewiston, Idaho. The first thing was the mouth of the Deschutes to McNary Dam—we mapped from the water level to the top of the bluffs by hand.
Franklin: Wow.
Boice: And then we went through, starting in ’58, and we inventoried the railroad. Now, when you inventory a railroad, we inventoried a railroad. Everything they possessed was put down. First, you go through and you measure and put stations—mark station markings on the rails. 80 miles of them. Then you go back and you reference everything the railroad’s got. Ties, spikes, tie plates, rails, joints, joint bars—if the fence moves, how far did it move, from what to what? If the rail changes, if there’s an isolation joint in there, you put that in. When you come to a switch, you measure everything that’s in the switch facility. You go—everything that that railroad has got. You become very, very familiar with railroads. [LAUGHTER] And then we went ahead, and we built railroads clear up to Lewistown. We handled a railroad layout real heavy. When they—are you familiar with the Marmes men?
Franklin: Yes.
Boice: Luck of the draw, I was on that. Because we were the—call it the resident survey crew in that area.
Franklin: Oh.
Boice: And we were babysitting construction. Make sure they got sticks out ahead of them, make sure that things are checked out behind them. They’re putting in a detour, why, check that out. They’re building a bridge, make sure it’s set up right, and check it out when they get done. So, first they call up and they say, there’s a guy down here at the mouth of the Palouse River thinks he hit something, and he wants an elevation on this cave, see where the water’s gonna come when they raise the water behind Lower Monumental, I believe.
Franklin: Yeah, I think that sounds right.
Boice: Is that the dam? So we went down there and run him in an elevation, painted it on the cave face. Happily on our way. Well, they hit pay dirt. [LAUGHTER] They dug up bones. So we were called back. They wanted—because the drillers were in there then doing sub-cell drilling of what’s down there. So we got to come in there and locate their holes so they know where what is. That was interesting. The whole thing. Now that the world has got into this Ice Age floods and stuff, I wish so heavily that I knew then what I know now. Because the layers that they went through were very definitely visible. This thing had been covered in various floods. But it was so interesting, the stuff that they found. Because it became an international incident. One of the coolest cats in the whole joint was Pono the Greek. And Pono run the sluice box. He had been all over the world. When the girls dug everything out, then they took the dirt to Pono, and he washed it down. Pono found thread of somebody’s sewing. Then they found the needle. And that to me was so cool. They had this needle that looked for all the world like a darning needle. How in the blazes they cut that eye in there! This was a really heads-up organization. [LAUGHTER] Interesting. Very interesting.
Franklin: Yeah, that was a very significant archaeological find.
Boice: I’ve got to go back some day and talk to that doctor. At an anniversary of something, we’re down here at Columbia Park, and he was talking and I showed up there with the historical society doing something-or-other. And I talked to him for about five minutes. He mentioned the fact that he wanted to see the guy that painted that elevation. I said, well, you’re looking at him. [LAUGHTER] It was—I got to go talk to him. Because one of the things in their report—they talked that the ditch was dug with a Cat. Now, I ain’t saying they’re wrong, because I didn’t see any digging when I was there. But just—as you’re going up and looking at a hole, and in those days we had looked at a bunch of holes—we were inspectors. They were going behind the soils guys. And it just to me had all the appearance of somebody that dug a ditch with a dragline. And I always figured it was a dragline in there, and somebody said it was a Cat. I don’t totally agree with him. But the bones were so interesting. They said that the one thing about the site was there had been somebody living on it forever. Just, the further down you went, the more primitive they became, ‘til you got past the layer of the Mazama ash, when Crater Lake blew its top. And they went past Mazama ash and suddenly things looked pretty sophisticated. That’s where the needle came from and a few other things. It was neat. I’d have liked to spend more time with them.
Franklin: Yeah. I’m sure you heard about the dam failing and the site flooding after they—because they created the protective dam around the shelter, and that failed and let water in.
Boice: It didn’t fail! The SOB was never built to hold! When they brought us down there to check these drill holes out, the drillers—we had other stuff to do that morning, and we didn’t get down there until 10:00. The driller had a half-a-dozen holes in. I’m talking to this old driller, and he says, they ain’t never gonna keep water out of that thing, because there’s a layer of palm wood down there and it’s gonna leak like a sieve. But they did it anyway. And we’re down there checking on settlement pins and a whole bunch of other stuff when the water’s coming up. But we’re all on the radio, and it’s like a big one-party line—you can hear what’s going on no matter where. And they’re putting in pumps, and the more pumps they put in, the more water they sprayed out, but noting changed. [LAUGHTER] So it’s a lovely fishing pond. But interesting: it was shortly thereafter that I quit the corps and went to Alaska. Within a year-and-a-half, two years, I’m up there doing the same thing, only instead of spotting holes in the ground, we’re spotting oil wells. And sitting in a warm-up shack, talking to a driller, and he made mention of the fact that they had spudded oil wells. Now, when they spud an oil well, they get in there with an oversized auger, like you’re setting telephone poles. And they go down there through the mud and the blood and the crud ‘til they get to solid rock. And then they bring in the drills. And he says, we have yet to spud a well here that we didn’t get palm wood. And that has always sat with me. Now, when they’re talking about global warming—if there has been palm trees growing at the mouth of the Palouse River, and palm trees growing at Prudhoe Bay, Alaska, it’s been a lot warmer than people are willing to talk about. [LAUGHTER] Just boggles my mind that there is palm wood in Alaska as well as Marmes Rockshelter.
Franklin: Wow, that’s really interesting. So you were—Marmes, then Alaska. When did you come to work for Vitro at Hanford?
Boice: That was a pretty short season. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: At Hanford, or in Alaska?
Boice: At Vitro. Oh, at Alaska I worked for various contractors. But Vitro—we didn’t philosophically match. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Ah.
Boice: Their minds were all inside the fence. And I’m too antagonistic. [LAUGHTER] If we had a problem—thou shalt not speak bad of Vitro. And we’re laying out penetrations on top of a tank. And they’re all done. Radius and angle—which radius is—and they had them at different stages there, and other people had been doing them. And this tank had been there for quite a—not quite a while, but every once in a while someone would come in and set some more holes, set some more holes. Well, they didn’t continue their circle around—nobody closed the circle. So by the time we get there ‘til the end, we have to figure out by adding up each and every hole all the way around the circle at every different radius to get the dimensions to where we’re at. Where if the guy had closed out his circle, you could have backed him out and been out of there in about a tenth the time. So I happened to make the statement, I said, Vitro drafting strikes again. And I was a marked man. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: How long in total, then, did you work out on the Hanford site?
Boice: Well, in ’56-’57, or ’57-’58, they were doing a lot of military work out there. And we did the roads up Rattlesnake—was in on that. The road up Saddle Mountain. A lot of RADAR sites. You’re aware of the Nike sites on—
Franklin: Yup.
Boice: --the north side of the river over there?
Franklin: Yup.
Boice: Been there, done that. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: So—that wasn’t for Vitro, was that when you were with—
Boice: That was the Corps.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: And we also did a lot of work up at Moses Lake.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: All the runway extensions up there, we were in on. They throwed us in the clink. They did not like our very presence.
Franklin: Why?
Boice: Apparently Moses Lake had two different structures. There was the Strategic Air Command structure up there, and there was the Military Air Transport Service. I didn’t know the difference. Les was—we were doing some mapping work. And the three of us were just gonna run some levels out to the next site we were gonna work at. And we took off the BM—benchmark—at the control tower. And we get about two turns out across the flight line there. And a bunch of guys come out, like a changing of the guard or something. Two or three of them stopped to talk to Kirby and George. The other five come out along, and they walked, just formed a circle around me, and they wanted to know if I wanted to go with them. They had submachine guns and a whole bunch of other stuff, and I said, heck, there’s nothing I’d rather do! [LAUGHTER] So they called up Walla Walla and they verified our existence. Then we had to go through security and get badges to—and we’d been working on that thing off-and-on for months. But we just hadn’t stepped in the right zone.
Franklin: Oh, wow.
Boice: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: They were just kind of waiting for you, then, to—
Boice: Just different—different bunch of stuff.
Franklin: Right. When you were in school in Kennewick, so after the—or even just after the word was out about the Hanford site, after August 6th, 1945, when you were in school, did they teach anything about Hanford history? Was it—
Boice: Go back to August 6th.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: What a day. [EMOTIONAL] What a wonderful day! I’d been down at the Village Theater—now the Richland Theater. I don’t even remember what was playing. But we came out, [EMOTIONAL] and the bells were ringing. The church down there, they were ringing their bells. And everybody was whooping it up—the war was over! And I’ll never forget, some gal in there alongside the street, she had half a dozen kids with garbage can lids and a parade going, and they’re banging and clanging. And the festivities that the war was over. And then we went back and they came out with the thing and Truman said, It’s the Atomic Bomb, and that’s what we’ve been building. And Mom went over and talked to the lady next door. She mentioned the U-235. And the gal says, they didn’t talk about that, did they? And she’d been keeping files, and her husband had been working on it. And neither of them would ever admit that they knew what the other one was doing. It was that tight. And the security in Richland. The FBI knew everybody in town, because it was not uncommon—it was a regular thing that they would come around and they would talk to you, and ask about him. And then they’d go talk to him and ask about you. It was just—it was what was going on. We didn’t know why. Well, after that—yeah, after it came out what was going on out there, then we knew what was there. But until Truman come out and said, here’s what was going on, we didn’t know.
Franklin: What about V-J Day? Was that a separate kind of a big celebration?
Boice: Yeah.
Franklin: Was that as big as the news of the bomb drop? Or was the bomb drop more of a pivotal moment here in the—
Boice: Well, the V-J Day, the end of the war, was the big day. That’s the celebration that I’ll never forget.
Franklin: Can you talk about it?
Boice: June—you heard about Harry Truman, didn’t you? When he come out to Hanford?
Franklin: No.
Boice: [LAUGHTER] The head of security was a guy by the name of McHale. And Dad worked pretty close with him with the fire department because everything was safety and security and if you had a problem, see McHale. Now, the guy had taken—he was pretty much high up in intelligence—but he had assumed the position of a first sergeant. And Sarge McHale was the guy. No matter what happened, Sarge McHale. Harry Truman did a fantastic job, and made his reputation just going from plant to plant—the Truman Investigating Committee, cutting down waste. And I guess he did a heck of a job. But he come out to Hanford and demanded to be let in.
Franklin: Sorry, was this when he was Vice President or President?
Boice: He was a senator!
Franklin: Senator—Senator Harry Truman. Okay.
Boice: And he comes there and demands to be let in. And of course, the guard says, McHale! And McHale comes over there and meets him head-on. He says, I’m Senator Truman, and I demand to be let in. McHale says, I don’t give a damn if you’re President of the United States; you ain’t coming in here. And he didn’t. Well, years later, and I believe it was when they were dedicating the Elks Club in Pasco, Truman was back up in this area. And he was President. And he come out to Hanford and he looked up McHale. And he said, uh-huh, you son of a bitch, you didn’t think I’d make ‘er, did ya? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Wow. That’s a great story. [LAUGHTER] But thank you. So after the war was over, was what went on at Hanford taught in school? Was there mention of the work at Hanford that built the bomb? Was that part of the curriculum here in town?
Boice: The local lore.
Franklin: The local lore, but nothing in the school at all?
Boice: Not that I recall.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: Everything was—there was a terrific amount of pride. The Atomic City, the atomic this, the atomic that. The first barber shop quartet come to town, when GE left—no, DuPont left, GE come in, four guys come in from Schenectady, New York with a barber shop quartet. First ones I ever saw. And they were the Atomic City Four. And the next one were the Nuclear Notes. [LAUGHTER] But there was an atomic pride, all over the area. Then there was the people that thought we should be ashamed of it. That we had built this device that killed a whole bunch of people.
Franklin: Now, were these people in the community? Or people outside?
Boice: Oh, yeah. Oh, yeah.
Franklin: And this was right at the time—
Boice: Oh, no, no, no. This is--
Franklin: Later?
Boice: Last week? [LAUGHTER] Last few years ago, yeah.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: I got my—I’m still behind Hanford.
Franklin: Okay.
Boice: Screwed up and all. Back to Vitro for a little bit. Like I say, they were—the organization that literally purchased and built the city of Richland—now, at that time I was flying, and I was flying out of the Richland airport. And there was an old geezer out there called Norm. Norm flew the bench. He was always on the bench out in front of the airport, there. And if somebody just going up to burn up some hours or play, why, Norm was willing to go along. I saw Norm and I hauled him around and then I went back to work for Vitro. And Pritchard brought this guy through—it was Norm! Norm had been the head of real estate when the entire city of Richland and the whole Hanford Project was bought. He was in charge of it. And he retired and trained his successor, who died. And he trained the next guy, who died. So they had Norm on a retainer. Just to ride dirt on real estate. Quite an interesting character!
Franklin: Yeah, I bet. I think I’d kind of like to return about something we were just talking about a minute ago, where you were talking about people that—especially in the later years that have been critical of Hanford. I’d like to get more of your feelings on that. On how you feel about that, or kind of what part of their argument or their viewpoint that you don’t agree with.
Boice: They were talking about—well, first there was the Richland High School and their bomb insignia. It was felt that they were making a big deal or prideful about this terrible event. And I always go back to a group from Japan that came over and were very critical of Richland for the same thing. And the gentleman who was interviewing them or was talking to them, when they got done, informed them in no uncertain terms, that we were invited very unceremoniously into that war, and we’re sorry if you didn’t like the way we ended it. [LAUGHTER] You get to researching, I’d like to bring up, why didn’t they drop the bomb on Tokyo? Because there was nothing left on Tokyo to injure. If you read about Curt LeMay and the Strategic Air Command and the bombing of Japan, he had eliminated that thing down to—the B-29 was supposed to be a high altitude bomber. And it wasn’t as great at it as it was advertised to be. But they had eliminated the defenses. And they made the B-29 into a low-level trucking company, and they were just hauling stuff over and unloading it. And the firebombing of Tokyo—the movies they showed us in the Air Force was something to behold. I mean, they—it was so much worse than what happened at Nagasaki or Hiroshima, either one. He was told to save two or three targets—clean targets. And when they come over there with the bombs, then they used these clean targets and saw what they could do. Of the four devices—the four nuclear devices, we used—was it four or three in World War II?
Franklin: Are you referring to—
Boice: All but one of them came from Hanford.
Franklin: Yeah.
Boice: The first one at Los Alamos was plutonium. And then Hiroshima was Oak Ridge.
Franklin: Yup.
Boice: And then Nagasaki was plutonium.
Franklin: Yeah.
Boice: But there’s those that—and there were at the time, there was a big discussion on, should we demonstrate to them what this thing could do? And the big argument was, what if it doesn’t do? What if you drop it and it don’t do nothing? [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Interesting. Can you speak to—or do you remember anything about the Civil Rights era in the Tri-Cities?
Boice: [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: There were reports of—you know, it’s known that Kennewick was kind of a sun-down town, and that many minorities were forced to live in East Pasco. And that during the war—
[NEW CLIP]
Franklin: There had been a sizable African American population at Hanford, but that after the war many of them left. So I was wondering if you could speak to the Civil Rights action you might have seen or you might have observed or anything in the Tri-Cities?
Boice: Well, I was up in Lewiston when their civil rights march come through. But it was well-advertised. People knew what was gonna happen. And I was at the hardware store, and there’s a black cement finisher I’d worked with building houses in Pasco. I says, Leroy! You gonna come march on Kennewick? He said, [AFFECTED DIALECT] shee-it. I wantsta live in Kennewick just about as bad as you wantsta live in East Pasco. [LAUGHTER] They had a march on Kennewick—a bunch of people that—I am told, because I was living in Lewiston, and I was in Lewiston at the time. But there’s a group out of Seattle and a group out of Portland come up to Pasco, and they marched across the bridge. They marched down Avenue C, up Washington Street, down Kennewick Avenue. And Kennewick yawned. Nobody particularly cared. They got to the Methodist church, and the groups come out and says, you look hot. Come on in and have some lemonade. They sat down at the church, had lemonade and went home. And that was the civil rights march in Kennewick. But there is—when I was there growing up, there were no blacks in Kennewick. There were blacks in Pasco, and there were no blacks in Richland. With the exception—the guy that run the shoeshine parlor at Ganzel’s barbershop lived in the basement, and they tell me that there was two black porters at the Hanford House. And that was the total black population of Richland.
Franklin: Wow.
Boice: But they were not welcome in Kennewick. It wasn’t that big a deal when I was walking down Kennewick Avenue when a couple of black guys—they were bums, hobos—come walking down Main Street, you might as well say. And a cop pulled up and says, the railroad tracks are two blocks down that way. They go east and west. Either one will get you out of town. And they went to the railroad track. I always figured that the blacks wanted to move to Kennewick because they couldn’t stand to live next to the blacks in Pasco. [LAUGHTER] And if you want to get right down to it, well, all that hooping and hollering they do right now, you go down to Fayette, Mississippi, which is 98.645% black, and all the blacks in Mississippi can live in Fayette and nobody cares. Go down to Van Horn, Texas, which is all Mexicans, and they can all live in Van Horn, Texas, and nobody cares. But you let half a dozen white guys go up in Ruby Ridge, Idaho, and they just have yourself a storm. Why, these are a bunch of white separatists! If everybody else can live together, why can’t the whites?
Franklin: Interesting. Some might say they were kind of starting a separatist movement up there, I think—claiming their own territory, and—
Boice: So what?
Franklin: Well, living together communally is often different from claiming that you don’t—aren’t subject to the law, the jurisdiction of the United States.
Boice: Nobody said that they weren’t subject to the law.
Franklin: Well--
Boice: They kept trying to integrate Prudhoe, but he kept getting cold and going home.
Franklin: Oh, in Alaska?
Boice: Yeah!
Franklin: Yeah.
Boice: They had a heck of a time keeping Prudhoe integrated. Because them black people do not like cold weather! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: I don’t think a lot of people like cold weather.
Boice: It was a big joke when we went down south there, to work at Savannah River. Because—hell, we’d come out of here and it was Thanksgiving. It was cold. We got down there, of course, if you’re traveling you’re gonna get nightshift. We left having the cold weather here at night down there. And I says, that’s okay, you’ll get yours come summertime when it heats up. But surprisingly—and I was really surprised that they didn’t take the hot weather any better than we did. I mean, it was miserably hot, but they were just as big a problem as a rest of us.
Franklin: I imagine it’s quite a bit more humid down there, though, with the—when it gets hot, you know. Because the heat with the humidity is—
Boice: Yeah, it is.
Franklin: --much worse than the dry heat.
Boice: Yeah, yeah.
Franklin: Is there anything that we haven’t talked about that you’d like to mention? Or any question I haven’t asked you that you think I should—
Boice: I don’t know what it would be. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Yeah, we’ve really gone—really jumped all over the place. It’s been great. Anyone else have any questions?
Hungate: No, the only question—you said you’d done some work with the railroad. What railroad?
Boice: Name one. [LAUGHTER]
Hungate: All railroads? Union Pacific, all the different--?
Boice: Yes. Right now they’re talking about the oil trains, and their problems with them tipping over? I wonder how long it’s gonna take them to get to the problem. In the beginning, railroads were 39-foot rails bolted together. Measured mile after mile after mile of it. Then in about, oh, the middle ‘60s—’67, thereabouts, ’66—when they were putting in the SP&S, that’s now the BN—the Burlington Northern on the Washington side. They went with quarter-mile steel. And the first question that we had as surveyors—because you’re constantly working with the expansion and contraction of steel—was how are they going to control that in long rails? Because if you’re working on railroads very long, first thing you realize is do not sit on the joints in a hot day. You get your butt pinched! [LAUGHTER] When those tracks expand. So we brought this up and the first thing they told us was, well, they’ve got special steel and it’s only going to expand sideways. Well, that story lasted about as long as it took when they started putting it together. Because when they started—they’d set up a factory down here, if you’ll call it that. Brought in 39-foot un-punched rail, and just rolled her off, welded her together and ground down the joints and put her in quarter-mile sections. They were very particular when they put it in at the temperature that they laid that down on, where before—you know what a creeper is? Okay, it’s a kind of a hairpin device that you put over the rail so that it will slide less. But in the old days, the 39-foot rail very seldom saw any creepers. When they put that quarter-mile steel together, you saw a lot of creepers. Now they have gone to ribbon rail. They welded the quarter-mile steel together. You drive down to Portland, and you look at that rail, and you’re gonna go a long ways before you see a joint. There at Quinton and Washman’s dip—which don’t mean a thing to you guys—[LAUGHTER] about a mile post from 120-whatever, they have got a creeper on each—alongside of each and every tie. I mean, they were using creepers like they were going out of style. To me, the expansion’s the thing that they got to worry about, but then they should have figured this out because they’re running it. But it’s a factor. You got to factor it in when you’re doing a pipeline, when you’re doing a railroad. When we were doing the pipeline, Maurice Smith of British Petroleum, who was the head pipeline engineer, I had lunch with him. [LAUGHTER] It ain’t like we sit down at a specified lunch—he dropped in at the chow hall I was eating and sat down at our table. So we got to talking about it. And that was the question I brought up, was how are you going to handle the expansion in the steel? And he says—he admitted it was a heck of a problem. And that you got to run as many Ss as you can so that it’ll take up and accordion itself. And when you’ve got a long straight stretch, it’s gonna give you problems. [LAUGHTER] Because it’s gonna go someplace. And that’s the thing that—after they started the quarter-mile steel, a couple of years later, we had a hot summer. The article in the Tri-City Herald called it the long, hot summer, where we had over 90 days of over 90-degree weather. But they were cutting chunks out of that railroad to keep her on the road bed. And at that time, when the SP&S was having these problems, the UP was laughing at them. They said, we tried this stuff in Wyoming. It didn’t work. And they’re using 39-foot stuff, and it was just whistling down the road. But now I see that they’re using the ribbon rail like everybody else. I can’t see how it’s gonna work, but the they’re doing it. [LAUGHTER] It ain’t my role! [LAUGHTER] The other one was the Camas Prairie. And that starts out, oh, about ten miles above Ice Harbor Dam, thereabouts, breaks loose, and goes clear up past Lewiston, up into Grangeville, Idaho. That’s a crazy little river.
Franklin: That’s the one that they filmed that Charles Bronson movie.
Boice: Breakheart Pass?
Franklin: Breakheart Pass, yeah.
Boice: Yeah, that was done up there. You get into railroad history—this area is knee-deep in it. Vollard was the great character in that. He started out with a little portage railroad around Idaho Falls and that area. And then he got the Walla Walla line—I call it the WWWWW&WWW line—Walla Walla, Waitsburg, Washtucna and Washington Wail Woad—which was a money maker. But he ended up getting a lineup from Portland out here. And then when they started building the Northern Pacific, they were building from both ends, and he was hauling Northern Pacific rail over his tracks and taking it out in railroad stock. By the time they got connected over in Montana, he owned a sizable chunk of the railroad. [LAUGHTER] And it was—you get into that railroad history, and it’s just takeover checkers. [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: Great. Well, thank you so much, George.
Boice: Okay! [LAUGHTER]
Franklin: It was a pleasure talking to you. And, yeah, thanks for coming in today.
Boice: All righty. Write if you find work! [LAUGHTER]
Northwest Public Television | Petersen_Gary
Gary Petersen: Sure. This is easy.
Robert Bauman: All right, let’s see.
Petersen: Hair's combed, eyebrows are trimmed.
Man One: Yeah, you sure do look pretty.
Petersen: Actually I'd rather watch her than—
[LAUGHTER]
Petersen: Is that--
Bauman: Unfortunately, you're supposed to look at me, actually.
Petersen: Oh. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Yeah, I’m sure. All right. Does that work there, on the mic?
Woman One: Mm-hmm.
Bauman: It’s okay?
Man Two: Mm-hmm.
Bauman: Okay.
Man One: We can start whenever you’re ready.
Bauman: All right. All set to go?
Woman one: All set.
Bauman: Excellent. All right. Well, Gary, I think we're ready to go.
Petersen: Fire away.
Bauman: All right. Well, let's start first by having you say your name and then spell it.
Petersen: Okay. It's Gary Peterson G-A-R-Y P-E-T-E-R-S-E-N. That's important, the E.
Bauman: Yes. You're right. My name's Robert Bauman and today's date is June 5th of 2014. And we are conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So, Gary, let's start with the beginning of your time here. Can you tell us about when you came to Hanford and Tri-Cities, what brought you here?
Petersen: Well, that's a good question. [LAUGHTER] Okay. Actually, I came first in 1960, January, 1960, with the Nike Ajax Missile site at the top of Rattlesnake Mountain. And I was temporarily assigned up there--well I was assigned up there, but three times a day we'd get on the back of a two and a half ton truck and go down to the mess hall down below. And I knew I was going to die, so I asked be transferred to any place and I got sent to Korea. I said never come back to the Tri-Cities, but as you can see, I did. The second time, though, is probably the one you're after. I decided after the military that I needed to get an education, so I went to Washington State University and got a Communications degree with a minor in Electrical Engineering. I had a job with Ford Motor Company all lined up, but I wasn't too enthused about going to Detroit. That was January of 1965. And so my college professor, Chuck Cole said, gee, there's a new company opening up in Tri-Cities. Why don't you stop by? So I stopped by on a Friday, went to work on Monday with Battelle, which became Pacific Northwest National Laboratory. So there's how I got here.
Bauman: So, that first time, in 1960, why did you want to transfer? Was it the ride down the mountain?
Petersen: Three times a day with an 18-year-old driving, and you drop 2,000 feet, and at the bottom there's a 90 degree corner, 16 degree grade, and it was January. I knew that one of these was going to go off the road. So I said I've got to get out of here. So I put in request for transfer, and I transferred. Just like that. To Korea.
Bauman: Right. During the first time here in 1960, did you spend any time in town?
Petersen: We did, much different than--actually most of the servicemen, and there were quite a few of us at the four batteries, would go to--there was a bowling alley and a dance hall over in Kennewick, just off of Clearwater that was surrounded by fruit trees. Now all of that's gone and it's all businesses and so on. Clearwater's full, but at that time, it was all orchards. It was pretty nice.
Bauman: What were your impressions of the place, other than not liking that ride down the mountain?
Petersen: Well, you have to remember it was about like probably what the first military people saw when they came by here in December, January of 1943. I mean it was cold, it was brown. No trees. It was a barren place, even in 1959. So I can imagine what Colonel Mathias thought when first flew over this place. From the top of Rattlesnake, as you can imagine, you saw the entire Hanford site, so it was pretty barren and bleak.
Bauman: Going back a little farther, where had you lived before this? Where did you grow up?
Petersen: I graduated from Womack High School, which is up the Okanagan. I lived on an apple orchard. Again I was used to being around trees, and you come to the desert--I can imagine, any time between 1943 and 1959, ‘60, ‘61, ‘62, this was a pretty barren place.
Bauman: And so in 1965, you took the job up at Battelle.
Petersen: Yep.
Bauman: What was the job?
Petersen: The job to start with was a communications person. I became the manager of the news of service. The advantage I had was I got everywhere on the Hanford site, except the tank farms. I've stayed away from the tank farms successfully for a lot of years. But I spent a lot of time out on the hundred F reactor, which was the biology and aquatic biology site at the time. I got all over the site, including back up to the top of Rattlesnake Mountain a couple of times. So it was really pretty nice.
Bauman: When you came back then, in '65, where did you live?
Petersen: Lived originally in what were called the stilt apartments. They're on Jadwin. They've been fixed up since, so you would never know that they were stilt. Stilt, meaning that they actually had posts that held up the second floor. The posts were the garage for the people who lived there. But they're not far from the Chevron station, kind of in North Richland. Lived there for quite a while. And then the last of the homes that were built prior to 1958 went for sale. Those were called the Richland Village Homes. And there were two-bedroom and three-bedroom, either one-car garage attached or unattached. And they went up for sale for—I bought one—three-bedroom with a single car garage attached—for $6,200. Pretty good buy at the time, and I ended up paying less than I was for rent in the stilt apartments. I thought was pretty good deal.
Bauman: What was the community of Richland like at the time in the mid-1960s?
Petersen: The community was still just finding its way out of what I call the federal government ownership. In 1958, the city became an incorporated city again. And it was 1958 that the federal government to city back over to itself. And so between '58 and '65, it was a city that was still trying to find its way as a city, other than as a federal funded city. It was unique in that aspect. Battelle was well the first companies, too, to come in here—although it had a government contract, it was one of the few to come in here and be from the outside. Man, up until that point it was DuPont and then General Electric and then in 1965 is when the AEC decided to diversify the Hanford contract. They split it up into eight pieces, and so Battelle was one of those pieces. The others were HEHF and the operations and so on. There's been 35 contractors in here since 1965, and Battelle was one of the early ones.
Bauman: Now, before your first arrival here in the 1960, the Ajax site, were you familiar with Hanford? Did you know what sort of work that was going on in Hanford?
Petersen: Well, I did only because I spent some time up at Fairchild Air Force Base. They also had a Nike Ajax missile site. They were trying to transfer some people from Fairchild to Hanford. And so I learned a little bit about what Hanford was. The nice thing at the time is everybody--all the military guys said, oh, you're going to love the Tri-Cities because it's way warmer than Spokane. So I thought, sure, and then you come down in January and it was cold, at the top Rattlesnake you get winds up to a hundred miles an hour. It was not one of your pleasure spots at the time, but the view was great. View was great.
Bauman: So, you knew something about Hanford at that point.
Petersen: Knew that it was a military installation, federal installation. Knew that they made the material for the atomic bomb. Knew that there was a reason for the Nike Ajax missile site to be there, to protect the site. So, yes, that much we were pretty clear on, and the military took their job very seriously. There was a no fly zone over Hanford. No commercial flights, no flights of any kind other than military itself. It was pretty well protected. And on top of Rattlesnake, I might just add, that was the radar installation. It was at the highest point, so the radar reached a long way. You could see planes coming well, well in advance of them ever getting through to Hanford. What was interesting is sometimes we would notify Fairchild or McChord, and you'd actually have fighter jets intercept planes that wouldn't veer off. That was a unique feature of what you did on top of the mountain. The other sites, they had radar installations, but that one was pretty unique. That was pretty good.
Bauman: Yeah. So in 1965 when you came and were working in communications, what sort of responsibilities did you have there?
Petersen: Well, one of the assignments that was unique was to take tours to indoctrinate all new staff members, and that was for everywhere on the site. Over the years, I've taken literally thousands of people on tours over the site. At the time, it didn't seem like it was that great of a job to be able to take people around the site, explain what the reactors were, what the 100 Area, 200 Area, 300 Area, those kind of things. But as it turned out, the longer I did it the more I realized that the work that was going on here was critical. The Cold War, was still fairly active, so it became important to me to make sure that people understood what kinds of things went on here. It wasn't until later that I became interested in what happened pre-1943. As you keep tromping across the land, you start saying, oh, there were other things here too. But it was pretty good.
Bauman: Those site tours for new employees, were they able to go pretty much everywhere on site?
Petersen: We could go everywhere except into the area that had the plutonium, which is now known as the Plutonium Finishing Plant. Where there was restricted classified, the real concern was both tritium and plutonium. You couldn’t say the word tritium back in those days. You could plutonium, because they knew it was the material for the plutonium bomb, Fat Man, came from here. But tritium was something nobody talked about. And so those areas were restricted and that was mostly in the tank farm area. That was were chemical separations took place, so we stay away from those. It was okay by me.
Bauman: Well, that does raise—obviously, security, safety were very important at Hanford. In what ways did security at Hanford impact your job? That's obviously one way. There's certain areas you couldn't go, right?
Petersen: There were replaces you couldn't go. The badges--all of the badges at that time were designated to which areas you could or couldn't go. It was readily identifiable on your badge whether you were allowed into say, the 300 Area or the 100 Areas with reactors, or the 200 Area. And within them there were other exclusion zones, too. There were restrictions placed in each of those locations. Typically somebody that worked in 100 Area wouldn't ever be allowed into the 300 Area, or into the 200 Areas. The reactor areas were the 100 Area, the 300 Area was the research area, and the 200 Area was chemical separation. They were pretty segregated as to where you could go.
Bauman: In communications you mentioned that you couldn't say the word tritium. Were there other things you couldn't talk about or write about?
Petersen: You couldn't talk about quantities. As a matter of fact, there was a real restriction early on. One of the things that I found in the process of working in communication, there were nine production reactors around the Columbia River on the horn. In the summertime in particular there were periods where all nine reactors would be working. Sounds unique when you think about it today, but in the summertime June, July, August they actually measured the temperature of the Columbia River before the first reactor and after the last reactor. As I recall, if the Columbia River temperature was raised by close to ten degrees, then they would have to start shutting down the reactors, because the flow back into the Columbia River was that warm coming from reactor. In order to protect the fish and things in the river, then they really monitored the river very carefully. The reason I point that out is you also never talked about how much water went through those reactors because there was a fear that the Soviet Union could figure out the quantities of production simply by measuring the amount of water that went through those reactors, or the temperature increase from one point to another. It sounds odd today, but that was one of the strictures of what you could and couldn't talk about. It was a pretty quick--they were very careful about quantities.
Bauman: And I assume that you had to, when you were hired, had to go through security clearance process--?
Petersen: Q clearances were standard. There was one level above that that was called CRYPTO for a while. I don't know what happened on those, but that was for individuals who got around most of the site. They were a unique feature at that time.
Bauman: Where was your office located? Where did you work out of?
Petersen: Well my office moved all over. Originally it was in the old army headquarters—and this is in 1965. Battelle, when they first came in here, moved into a building that was called 3201. Later they changed it to the old office building—OSB was what it was called, old office building. But that was before the Battelle buildings were built, which became known as the Sand Castle. We lived and worked from January of 1965 until probably the spring of '66 before we moved into the new Battelle-owned buildings, the Sand Castle, which are on Battelle Boulevard now. And then later I moved out into the 300 area. I was in and out of 100F area. Those kind of places. So, yeah. How we doing?
Bauman: You knew the site well.
Petersen: Well, except for the 200 Area. That was a real restricted area, and maintained that for quite a number of years.
Bauman: You talked about giving tours to new employees, sort of the indoctrination to the site. How about for dignitaries, government officials, did you do that? How about the general public?
Petersen: The general public rarely, if never, I don't think we ever did that, but government official Catherine May was the first congresswoman I took through. She was a congresswoman from 8th District. I took Senator Magnuson through. Later Tom Foley, so quite a number of those over the years. In later years we started getting some foreign visitors, as well. But early years congressional officers, congressional staff, the governor. Dan—Governor—the name just few out of my head. The governor of the State of Washington, Dan--?
Bauman: Evans.
Petersen: Evans. Thank you. He later became also a senator from the state. He was a first governor that I helped escort across the site. Most of those, it was unique to be able to take visitors like that around the area.
Bauman: Do any of those tours especially stand out? Were any officials particularly interested or excited about it? Are there any sort of strange stories from that?
Petersen: [LAUGHTER] Well, Senator Magnuson was a unique individual. He actually came out quite a number of times. And one of those times we were in the 300 Area, and I was working at the time for Westinghouse, Westinghouse Hanford Company. He came out to actually, quote, break the ground on FFTF. We were in a building at the time, a four story office building in the 300 Area, and I'll never forget, I was assigned to make sure he got up to the podium. His vehicle came in front the building, and then drove around to the back of the building, so I ran back and met Magnuson back there. I'd known him before. Frankly, honestly, he was drunk as a skunk. I didn't think he was going to be able to make it. He says, just get me to the podium and I'll be fine. I didn't think it was possible. But he got up, he gave an excellent speech. A little wobbly, but I don't think most people knew that he had been drinking. This was 4:00 in the afternoon or so, and then he left. I might point out, it was about a year later, 1971, that President Nixon came out. There was quite a scramble, because at that time there were no buildings for Westinghouse. Westinghouse was kind of spread all over, so when the advance team for Nixon came out, they decided that the proper place would be the Battelle buildings. This sounds odd, but there was a real infighting between, at that time, Atomic Energy Commission, Westinghouse Hanford Company, and Battelle over what signs would be displayed where. Because Westinghouse was interested in making sure—this was for FFTF, and that was a Westinghouse project. On the front of the podium, of course, was the President's seal. He spoke out in front of the buildings, but behind that—or around that, Westinghouse came in the night before and put up Westinghouse circle W signs around the site. Just an example of my boss at the time, who was one of the vice presidents, said I don't care how you do it, but I want to sign that says Battelle that they can't take down and will be located visibly for all the cameras. So we stole a door off of one of the rooms in the Battelle building. I don't know if you've been the buildings or not, but they're very tall doors. They're nine-foot-tall doors. So we actually, that night, took one of the doors off, put Battelle on it, and put it up on the front of the building up high so it was right behind the podium. Westinghouse--we had to do that after midnight. That door actually was at the entrance to Battelle for—I don’t know—the next 20 years. They finally took it down not long ago. But that was relative to President Nixon showing up. That was pretty good.
Bauman: Stealing and moving doors.
Petersen: Well, everybody wanted their name and with the President of the United States, and so that's what we did.
Bauman: Did you get the chance to meet him when he came?
Petersen: I did. One of the things I still—my family still values—is Pat Nixon was along with him. My oldest daughter was one year old, and because of what I was doing, we managed to get my wife and daughter into what was called the VIP area of the presentation and so on. She didn't get to shake hands with President Nixon, but Pat Nixon came by and actually held my daughter for a brief minute. We got a picture of it and it is still on the family someplace.
Bauman: How about foreign dignitaries were there any--
Petersen: Foreign dignitaries, those came later, too, after the SALT agreements. On the signing of the SALT agreements, there was real concern both on the part of Russia, Soviet Union, and the United States for how much materials were still being made or not made. There were a number of Russian visitors who came over to verify which reactors were still operating, which ones weren't, how much material was still going through the canyon facilities, those kind of things. We started for the first time, seeing some of the senior Russian officials come through. The one that still strikes me and my memory is Admiral Sarkisov. He was head of the Russian Navy, and he came out both to see at that point the start of the reactor vessels from the submarines. Today, we have about 124 submarine and cruiser missile reactor cores out on site, but at that point I want to say we probably only had eight or ten, maybe 11, 12, something like that. But he also wanted to see those and verify that the submarines had actually been decommissioned, cut up, and so on. We toured both the reactor areas and the submarine vessel area. Of course, that's where my story about FMEF comes from, too. There was a building out there that was built for FFTF called FMEF, Fuel Material Examination Facility. On the way out to the site, Admiral Sarkisov asked, what is in that building. I told him it was a shut down building. We went out and toured the site. We toured the top of Rattlesnake Mountain with him, too, which was pretty unique. But we toured the site and coming back in, he asked if he could see that building, inside the building. So I called security. It was a closed building—it was locked up. And so they met in they let us in. As we came out, Admiral Sarkisov says, well now I can move the satellite. I asked what he was talking about. And he said, well, we've been watching that building since it was completed, and we couldn't believe the United States would build a building of that size, that massive size, and then not use it. So we knew that was connected underground some other place, because we never saw any cars come. So the Russians actually thought that that building was so secret that they had an underground entrance that came from someplace else. But he saw it was simply not used. And it is unique building. It's a billion dollar building.
Bauman: That's a great story. When you were giving the tour with him, was there an interpreter present when he was--
Petersen: There was always an interpreter. As a matter of fact, one from both State Department for us, for the people who were the escorts, and then he had his interpreters, too, so there was both. The group was probably ten people or so: site manager, and then others of that--there was people from state--you didn't let them wander around by themselves. Pretty unique.
Bauman: Well, you said you've been connected to Hanford since 1965--
Petersen: Mm-hm.
Bauman: I'm sure you’ve--
Petersen: Almost 50 years.
Bauman: --been privy to a lot of interesting events and stories. So I’m going to ask you to tell me some of those, but there's one in particular I know, and that's the alligator story.
Petersen: Yeah, the alligator story is good.
Bauman: All right, you can talk about that.
Petersen: The alligator’s pretty unique. The aquatic biology was located in 100-F Area. That's the last reactor in the downstream flow of the Columbia. So they studied the impacts of the reactors on fish, miniature swine, beagle dogs, they had African pygmy goats, but one of them—Merc Gillis was a doctor of veterinary medicine—graduate of WSU, I might add. He said that he wanted to study the uptake of strontium-90 in a thick skinned animal, because strontium is bone seeker or thick skin. So he convinced the manager of the site, of biology site, that we ought to buy some alligators. The story varies depending on who you're talking to. Bill Bair will give you one side of the story, because he was one of the managers out there. I'll give you another one. But I know for a fact at least six alligators were purchased for the studio strontium-90 uptake. Bill Bair says there were more, but I still wonder about that because I was in and out of there a lot. But these alligators were about two and a half feet long and they put them in a retention pen in the Columbia River, but it was also where the effluent from the F Reactor came back. The water would pass through the reactor, put into retention basin for a short period, and then put back in the river, so it was warmer than the river. That's part of the point. It also was the first place where the water returned to the river, so that was where the strontium would be taken up by the alligators. That's the theory. Well, two months, three months after they put the alligators into this retention pond, there was a big storm. The pen came down and all six alligators got out. This was under the AEC at the time, too—they managed to catch five, but they missed one. It was months later that a fisherman over in Ringgold, downstream, fishing caught this last alligator. Of course, he was trying to tell friends about it, and on and on. But, he had to protect the proof, so he took to a taxidermist office in Pasco and had the thing stuffed. Well, one of the technicians from aquatic biology was walking by the taxidermist shop, saw this stuffed alligator. So he ran in, grabbed the alligator, and ran out, which now makes it more or less of a public story. This was in 1963, before I got here. But the story comes around. Anyway, AEC tried to bury that story. No, we've never had an alligator out there. We don't know anything about alligators. They actually, I think, had it classified for quite some time. But when I got here in '65, my boss was a guy named George Dalen and I had been here for about a year. He says, it's time to give the alligator back. I had no idea what he was talking about, but this is where I entered the story. So he pulls out this stuffed alligator about like this, and he said it was, I think the guy's name was Aaron, he said track him down, because he was the fisherman. He paid to have it stuffed, and we're going to give the alligator back. We'll just let the story go away. So I did. I found the man. Unfortunately, the Tri-City Herald ran a story about this big about the alligator, and once every eight or ten years, they use one of these clips when they do the previous in history. DOE came in and they claimed to know nothing about any alligators, ever, ever, ever. It was in the technical library that they finally found the documents that showed not only did they have alligators, but the other five, they moved from 100-F when they had a fire out there, down to the 300 Area where life sciences built a new building. So I know that there were six alligators, five, one stuffed, and Bill Bair says that there were a few more than that, but I don't know that. That's the alligator story. Better told over beer, I might add, but not bad.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Are there any other stories during your time at Hanford--incidents, events, things that you were involved in in your job [INAUDIBLE]?
Petersen: The biggest one is one that I think this community has forgotten completely, and that's Apollo 11. Apollo 11 was the first lunar landing. When Apollo 11 came back to the moon and splashed down in the Pacific, it turned out that in 329 Building, there was a room that was used for very low level radiation detection. It was a room made of pre-World War II battleship steel. It was used for a lot of reasons for measuring very small quantities of radiation. Battelle actually put in a bid with NASA to study some of the first lunar materials that came back. So they had splash down in the Pacific, and we had a man named Dr. Lou Rancitelli, who actually waited in Houston for those materials to be flown from the Pacific, off of the aircraft carrier, back to Houston. He had a briefcase—big briefcase—chained to his wrist, where he brought those back through Seattle and then to the Hanford site. He arrived here about one in the morning, I might add. There were only a few people--Doctor Perkins, myself, a couple of others, who were waiting. We kept this all secret, because we weren't supposed to tell news media or anybody else that this was going on. But Lou got the materials back, and the next day we started petitioning NASA to allow us to display those moon rocks here in this community. The second place in the whole world that moon rocks were displayed was the Federal Building here in Richland. We managed to display them for three days, and there were lines four abreast around the federal building to look at those rocks. They'd go by and ooh and aah because it came from the moon. But almost to a person, everybody says, looks just about exactly like what we see out here in the desert. You couldn't tell them apart. But the fact that we had those lunar materials, I mean that was--wherever you were, you watched TV of the landing on the moon in 1969. That was a huge event. It was after that that Nixon came to town, but hardly anybody recalls that at all. It's just a forgotten piece of history, but at the time, it was pretty big. It was almost--and I missed it—it was almost like when President Kennedy came out to dedicate the Hanford Generating Project attached to N reactor, and that happened in 1963, just before I got here. Big events.
Bauman: Yeah. Yeah. Any other happenings or stories that stand out in your mind?
Petersen: I wasn't a part of what was called the Green Run. Others will have to tell you about the Green Run. But one of the stories I covered, and that's one of the only ones that I was out near the tank farms. Atmospheric sciences is out between the 200 East and 200 West. It has a 300-foot-tall atmospheric tower at that site. They've all been removed today, but going downwind from that 300-foot-tall tower were, number one, four or five 200-foot-tall towers and then five or six or seven 100-foot-tall towers. They would regularly release very small quantities of radioactive iodine, most usually put into colored smoke so they could track both the visual as well as radiation and see how long it took to go downwind and disperse. Just to show you how we were at the time, the photographer and I who were covering that piece as a story thought, well not only did we want to shoot it so you can see it go, but get underneath it so you could watch it as it--It's not a very smart thing to do today, but at the time it seemed like a pretty good idea to be able to watch that stuff as it drifted and deposited. So, we did the story. AEC never let us release it, but we kept the story internally for quite a number of years. I don't know what happened to it now, but those kind of things went on fairly often. You need to know where radiation goes, and that was a piece of it.
Bauman: Do you know roughly the time period that would have been?
Petersen: Well, it would have been probably '68 or '69, someplace in there. There has been more study on the Hanford site--atmospheric studies, geologic studies, temperature swings, those kind of things, than almost anywhere in the United States. They really tracked how the weather changed, how the wind moved, what the ground flow is from rain, those kind of things. It was--going to atmospheric physics lab in the 200 Area was an experience. At one point I managed to take a TV crew up, because if you climb a 300-foot-tall tower in the middle of Hanford, you could see just about everything. It turned out that we got the film crew up, they took the pictures, and then security looked at the pictures and said you have pictures of classified areas within those pictures, so they took a whole video. All of the climbing up and down was for naught. So, a pretty good place.
Bauman: You mentioned earlier that when you first came and started giving tours, you really didn't know much about pre-'43 events.
Petersen: True.
Bauman: When did you become more aware the communities that were out there and start learning more about that?
Petersen: I had the real fortunate opportunity to meet Bill Rickard, and I hope you've interviewed him. Bill is a gentleman of the first order, but Bill has probably walked that site more than any single person. One of the early things—I got acquainted with Bill. Bill ended up taking me on walks across parts of Hanford. The first time that he took me out was to Rattlesnake Springs, which is up a gully on the face of Rattlesnake Mountain. It's just an experience to go with Bill, and that was mostly on—we call a bugs and bunnies--but it was mostly what was all of nature that's out there: deer, elk, coyotes, even fish and so on. But Bill knows that site probably better than any other single person. So every chance I ever got to go out with Bill, anywhere, that's where you first got the sense that there was something here pre-1943. That's when I first saw the irrigation piping. That's where you first saw the home site--we've had two major fires across that site, and both of them ended up and taking out things and were still left. There was a home up by a Rattlesnake Springs that actually still had furniture in it. It was burned down in the first fire. So Bill knew all that stuff, and so the experience of going out with Bill was really unique. I wouldn't trade it for anything. That's where I started thinking, well—actually, Bill led me to a person named Annette--I can't think of it.
Bauman: Heriford?
Petersen: Heriford. Annette is the one who—she was in the class that would have graduated from Hanford High School out there on site. She worked for Battelle, PNL at the time. I got real acquainted with Annette, and then I helped Annette have the first reunion of her class out at that old Hanford School and that would have been, my gosh, maybe '78 or so. 1977, '78. And Annette could tell stories about what the old Hanford town was like and White Bluffs, and how rich and agricultural area it was. She was an amazing lady. It's too bad that she passed away quite some time ago. She was a real historian. You talk to those, and all of a sudden it becomes real. She's the first one that I talked to, not Bill Rickard, but Annette Heriford that that explained that some of the people had less than two weeks' notice to move off that site. You think about it and you say, that's just not possible. But it happened. Then you start feeling for the people who—there were roughly 2,000—the numbers change, depending again on who you talk to. The one on one side, the federal side, says there's only 1,500 people out there. But if you look at the historical records, you know that there were probably about 2,100—kids and the whole works. Some of the early census didn't include some of the children, or the sheep herders that moved back and forth across the site. In talking with Annette, you finally got the feeling that was something else here that happened before 1943. That's what got my attention. Good that you know her name, too.
Bauman: Yeah. Why did you think that was important, then, for people to know about?
Petersen: It was probably a little later than that that I also became acquainted with some of the Native Americans. I've got to know some of those over time, too. The relationship of the people who lived out there, both with Native Americans and the site—I’ll change directions for a minute, too. My family at that point lived in Wenatchee, so when I first came in 1965, in order to get to Wenatchee from here, you had two choices. You'd either go around through Pasco and up through Moses Lake and back, or you could go out to Vernita where there was a ferry, part time, and it didn't work at night. You'd ride the ferry and go across. That was prior to the bridge being built and so on. As you go out there, and see the ferry, you'd also see the structure that now I know is Bruggemann Warehouse, and you'd meet some of the people who were either former residents or Native Americans. Then you stopped and you waited for the ferry. You got a chance to talk to some of the people as you went back and forth. There was a lot of discussion about what was this site prior to. But growing from Vernita to Vantage that was pre-Mattawa days. Now I can visualize what Hanford must have been, because Hanford was an agricultural area, prior to—it looked like Mattawa today does. When I first started driving up there, there were no orchards between Vernita and Vantage. Now you look, there's orchards and vineyards and all kinds of stuff at Mattawa. Hanford was that, but it was that before 1943. You have to visualize what it was like, and it was amazing. Hanford really has a perfect weather pattern for early produce, and it was one of the first in the state to produce and all kinds of things--peaches and pears and cherries and walnuts, all kinds of stuff. How we doing? These guys need a break. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: You started in '65. You're now at TRIDEC. At what point did you move to TRIDEC? I know you worked also at Westinghouse and [INAUDIBLE].
Petersen: My wife kids around and says I can't hold a job. That's the point. I typically work for a company for about seven years and then move companies. So I worked for Battelle for a while, then Westinghouse for a while, then what was called WPPSS, Washington Public Power Supply System for a while. But I retired from Battelle in 2002, and the Hanford manager for the site was Sam Volpentest. Sam was 99 years old at the time, and his doctor, who's also my doctor ended up saying, Sam you can't fly to Washington, DC anymore and go after money. I'd known Sam since '65, I met him in '65, and Sam called and said, Gary, I know you retired, but would you come back to work part time, ten hours a week, easy job go to Washington, DC for me and that's it. He had the nerve to die at 101. He lived for about a year after he hired me to do those trips. And when he passed on, as a result TRIDEC at the time said, well, we need somebody full time to do this. I wasn't real interested, so they said we'll make it part time job. You only have to work 25, 30 hours a week. It hasn't been that since. Away we go. It's nice because if they want to fire me, I'd love it. I'll go and play golf. It's a good deal.
Bauman: Can you talk about Sam Volpentest a little bit? Obviously, a very important figure through most of the Tri-Cities. Can you talk about his significance a little bit?
Petersen: Would be happy to. Sam was an incredible politician. He never ran for office that I know of, but he knew politics from the top to the bottom. He was friends with everybody from Governor Rosellini to Senator Magnuson, Senator Jackson, Speaker of the House, Tom Foley. He knew politics. If you read the book so that was just written about Sam, it has a lot of facts, but until you knew Sam--and I was fortunate. Another part of my assignment, when I first got here in '65, TRIDEC was called TRICNIC. So it had a different name. It was Tri-City Nuclear Industrial Council. And Sam was not a writer. As a matter of fact, everything he did was longhand, very pretty penmanship, but he couldn't put things down on a typewriter for taking to Washington, DC and so on. Battelle, one of their offers to the community was to provide somebody who could write to Sam to write their newsletters, to write their congressional letters, to write things. I got to know Sam when he was in a little office on the Parkway. Later he moved into the Hanford house. Sam was a mover. Most of the ideas that Sam accomplished didn't start with Sam, but he would hear an idea and he'd say, that sounds good. We're going to do that. For example, he started TRICNIC/TRIDEC in 1963. In 1963—you've got to go back in time—every road in and out of the community was two lanes. There was one airline only at the time, and Sam knew that in 1963 the government, AEC, was starting to shut down the reactors. Sam and Glen Lee and Bob Philip formed TRICNIC and they did that to try and offset, with federal dollars, the coming shut down of the production mission at Hanford. In the process, they also determined that in order to develop a community long range, you had to have transportation. Even though most people think that Sam concentrated on Hanford, he actually--and Glen Lee and Bob Philip—all really focused on how do we make the Tri-Cities bigger and better than it is? Four-lane highway was first, but airlines were second, and the third one that really was not well-known at all was education. And they went after a Center for Graduate Study for this community, which became WSU Tri-Cities. They decided that you had all of this intellectual property at the laboratory at Hanford, but you needed something for their families. I don't think it was a sit down and let's do a vision and do all these things. I think it came in pieces, where they actually decided they wanted certain things. Sometimes the fallout was better than what they expected. As an example, the breeder reactor program, which started in 1968, '69, was going to be a major, major new AEC mission. Sam went after the breeder reactor program, and he didn't get it. Savannah River did, what was called Clinch River Breeder Reactor. But he got the secondary issue, which was FFTF, which is a small test reactor that led to. As it turns out, over time the administration killed the Clinch River Breeder Reactor, but they kept FFTF going. Or, another example is we lost out on a mission that Sam really wanted that I think was called SMEVs—and maybe I'll explain it, but maybe not. And we lost that one, too, and so Sam went to Magnuson and said, we need something. Give us something. A couple days later, the story goes, Magnuson called up and said well we had a federal building planned for Montana or Wyoming or something, but they really don't want it. How about we put a federal building in the Tri-Cities. That's how this Federal Building came about. That was Sam. Sam was tenacious. He either liked you, or he didn't like you. There were people he wouldn't let in his office, period, but others-- Phenomenal memory. He could pick up a phone and call congressmen or senators from other states without ever looking the number up. He would pick up the phone--he never believed in talking to staff. He would talk to Senator Magnuson. He would talk to Chet Holifield. He would call them up personally and say I need this or I need that. He was incredible.
Bauman: That's a great story. How was he able to have such persuasive powers with Magnuson, Scoop Jackson, a senator also, Tom Foley, right, these US Senators? Tri-Cities is still fairly small, population-wise. Was it his tenacity?
Petersen: Well. It was his tenacity, but it all started with Governor Rosellini. And the fact that Sam, for a period before he came here, was in the Italian something club in Seattle, which was Rosellini, Magnuson was an honorary member. He, Sam, belonged to the Seattle club, which is still there, downtown Seattle. He made politically--he recognized that you needed political connections no matter what. When he came here and then he had the backing of Glen Lee, Tri-City Herald, the combination of those two—Sam took every advantage he could find. His advantage with the Tri-City Herald was, if he thought we needed something, then Glen Lee would support it editorially, and they would go after the politicians collectively and get it. Sam liked to take credit and he did many, many things, but it was really the combination that he put together that was pretty unique—partnerships. It took him a long time to play what I call both sides of the aisle. Typically he was a Democrat. He was a solid, solid Democrat. But he started realizing that there were Republicans that you had to deal with as well, and he needed to work with them over time, and he did. He built friendships across the whole gamut. And active, I mean, he was amazing. If you ever got a chance to go—Sam was small, but if you ever got a chance to go to Washington, DC with Sam, it was an experience. It was unbelievable. He knew where he was going. He didn't have to look at a map. He walked everywhere. I'll say he was a cheapskate, but he was a penny pincher. If a hotel cost $110 a night, he'd find one where you’d get it for $109. Sam was that kind of an individual. But he knew The Hill like nobody else I've ever seen. He knew the underground parts of The Hill, too. He didn't like to get out in the weather, so there's a whole both subway system and hallways between the House side the Capitol and the Senate side. Sam knew all of those underground links, and he'd just take off through those tunnels and go from one side of The Hill to the other side of The Hill. Amazing.
Bauman: And he lived a long life, so he had--
Petersen: 101.
Bauman: --connections with those politicians--
Petersen: Long period of time. He recognized, too, that he was outliving his supporters. He outlived Magnuson, he outlived Jackson. The one that was constant was Rosellini and Rosellini and he were the same age. And so Rosellini lived to 100, as well. Pretty good.
Bauman: What about Glen Lee? What sort of role--what was he like?
Petersen: Glen Lee was a bulldog. He's a big, imposing man. The thing that I think the Tri-City Herald should have done was kept his office as a mausoleum. His office was a piece of history by itself. He had pictures with Presidents, he had pictures with governors, he had memorabilia from all over the place. If you asked Sam and Glen the same question, you'd get two similar, but different answers. Who caused something to happen? I'll give you one story that is really unique. How did Battelle get here? Sam had a vision of how Battelle came; Glen Lee had a vision of how Battelle came. Fred Albaugh, one of the lab directors had a story about how Battelle came to be here. And Sherwood Fawcett, who became the first director of the lab, had a different story. I believe they're all correct, but they're different. Each one takes credit in a different way, and so Sam claims full credit for bringing Battelle here. He was at a meeting in New York and he knew that the lab was going to be bid out. He ran into Burke Thomas, who was the president of Battelle, and Sherwood Fawcett, and sold them on the idea coming. That's Sam's story. If you listened to Sherwood Fawcett, Sherwood Fawcett said that the president of the company actually was a graduate of the University of Washington. He wanted to open the lab somewhere in the state of Washington. Burke Thomas found out that this lab was going to be bids, so Burke told Sherwood go and bid on that and win it. Two different sides of the same story. I don't know which one is right.
Bauman: You've been connected in Hanford for quite a few years now, and seen a lot changes take place. Obviously, one of the key changes was the mission of the place itself, from production to clean up. I'm wondering if you can talk about that a little bit in terms of how you saw that and the impact that had on the area of Hanford itself?
Petersen: I'm happy to. I'm going to connect it back to Sam a little bit. One of the changes that was major was going from AEC, Atomic Energy Commission, to an organization for a short period called ERDA, which I forget now what that stands for. They were only and operation for a year and a half or so, and now to DOE. Most of the new missions for the Hanford site didn't come from within the federal government, they came from the community. As the production reactors were being shut down, Sam and Glen in particular saw that we needed to find new missions for Hanford. One of the first ones was a Hanford Generating Plant, which was operated by Washington Public Power Supply System, but attached to N Reactor. N Reactor was the first dual purpose reactor in the United States, and the vision was it was going to last a long time because it was the newest one and it produced 800 megawatts of power. Sam and Glen said, let's get the HGP here, because the United States wouldn't dare shut down a reactor that's producing 800 megawatts of power, so that was one the early ones. But as you started to see the reactors come down, they looked for other missions. One of the first ones was a thing called BWIP, which is--everything has an acronym, but a Basalt Waste Isolation Project, which was actually in competition with both Nevada and Texas to become the nation's repository. BWIP, that's a misnomer, what I just said. BWIP was actually the study of the geology of basalt for a repository, but it wasn't going to be the repository. It was a study site. If it worked, if it showed that it could work, then there would have been some other place on the Hanford site they would have dug deep down into the basalt and made a repository. Deaf Smith, Nevada, Yucca Mountain, and here were one of the visions of Sam and Glen and wanted to become the repository for the nation. All of a sudden there was a move in Congress that said we're going to select one and it's going to be Yucca Mountain. And so shut the other two down. And actually BWIP, the Basalt Waste Isolation Project, was shut down within a period of two to four weeks. There were hundreds of people who worked out there. When that shut down, Sam then went after that Clinch River Breeder Reactor program. The breeder reactor program ended up getting FFTF so there was certain things that happened in a sequence that he was always looking for that new mission, whatever it was. One example, the one that Sam loved to do, and I stumble on every time, is Sam also heard that MIT and some others were going after this deep space exploration project. There were two sides to that, at the time. One was SNAP, which is the Space Nuclear Application Program and the second side was what became LIGO, the Laser Interferometry Gravitational-Wave Observatory. I can only do that once. But Sam loved that one because he could spit it out. He had that one memorized and he loved to go into a congressional office and say—rather than LIGO. So Sam is the one that really pushed for that project as well. Always, they had a vision of trying to capture new missions for Hanford, and it was never really—the push never came from DOE or ERDA or AEC after the original mission. They all came from the community. And we’re in competition with Oak Ridge, Idaho Falls, Savannah River, for those kind of things.
Bauman: Another one of the changes that's taken place at Hanford since I've been here is there are a lot fewer buildings on site now than there were. I wonder if you could talk about that a little bit, and what that means, you think, in terms of the history.
Petersen: I'll start lightly and say it's a conspiracy. The conspiracy is every building that I've ever worked in out there, with the exception of FFTF, has been torn down. [LAUGHTER] So I think they're out to get me. At the top of Rattlesnake Mountain were the Nike Ajax building, they've been torn down, and buildings and then the 300 Areas that I had offices in. What we're seeing today, though, is the success of cleanup, particularly along the river corridor. I will say that the Department of Energy and the contractors have done an amazing job of cleaning up this site. When you look at the changes, particularly in the 300 Area or the reactors themselves, the change is phenomenal. I forget, I think there's something like 280 buildings have been taken off the site, and the landscape has changed. The big, tall smokestacks are gone. The water tanks that were out there are gone. The skyline has changed drastically. And they've done it, too, with an intent to try and return it to original habitat. Most of it is what's called brownfields, but they have done a tremendous job of actually recovering a lot of the vegetation the original look of the land, with the exception that this was agricultural area, so it's different. But that's a huge, huge change. And most of that's been in the last five years. It's a different thing today than it was, 1965. You just see it all over the place.
Bauman: You've been giving tours for years. I can't imagine how many tours you've led.
Petersen: I don't know. A lot.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Do you have a favorite place on the site of the different places you stopped for tours or maybe when you went out with Bill Rickard? Is there a place that you really--?
Petersen: The B Reactor is unique, unique, unique. There is no place like B Reactor. When you go in to B Reactor and you realize that 50,000 people were brought from all over the United States, and some foreign countries, they didn't know what they were building. They didn't have computers. They didn't have portable radios. They didn't have portable phones. And they, start to finish, built B Reactor in 11 months. That's just plain incredible. When you look at the craftsmanship of doing that, the best analogy is still from Jim Albaugh, who was the head of the Boeing program for 787s. We took him on a tour of B Reactor and he came out and he said, this would be like trying to bring in 50,000 people, have them build their own community first, because they had to have a place to live and eat and so on, and then tell them build a 787, but you've got no computers to do it with. And you've got to buy all the materials and manufacture them. So B Reactor is unique, unique. I can't say enough about B Reactor. But there's a flip side, too, and that is I've also become enamored with pre-1943. When what I think about that, it's really the city of White Bluffs, and the fact that there's still a ferry landing out there, there's a bank building out there, there's sidewalks out there. You go out and when you're alone, you go out by yourself, you can just visualize this community that used to exist. Then all of a sudden, they're moved away and 50,000 people come in in a period of weeks, just a very short period of time. They have to build a town, and then they start building things like B Reactor. And to know is all done, really, under the direction of a 36-year-old individual and a Corps of Engineers, it's unbelievable. I know a lot of cocky 36-year-olds, but I don't know anybody like Franklin Matthias to do the things he did with 50,000 people. Unbelievable. My favorite place is B Reactor. It's got to be right there.
Bauman: Well, I think you and I could just go on talking for hours, probably.
Petersen: [LAUGHTER] I think we're close.
Bauman: But I do wonder, is there anything that we haven't talked about yet that you want to talk about, maybe that I haven't asked you about. Any stories, or anything that's really important that you want to mention?
Petersen: There's a piece that has yet to be done, Bob, and that piece I've talked to several people about. That piece is trying to capture either the individuals or the families of the people who were here prior to 1943. I think it is extremely important for us as a community to find those people, identify them, bring them together, allow them back out on the site for the first time. I took the Bruggemann family back out. That was the first time--did this about three years ago. That was the first time they had been back since 1943, and to go--it's like anybody's heritage. If you have a chance to go back and see where your parents or your grandparents--or you, as a child, grew up--the vision is different. Things are smaller, but—the feel of the place. We need to find those people and give them credibility and standing so that they have the opportunity to see their heritage. It turns out that exactly the same time as people were being moved off Hanford, the Japanese were being moved off of Bainbridge Island. Exactly the same time. And they all had to be off by August of 1943. In the case of the Japanese, the federal government has actually done some very nice things. They helped some of the families regain their land. They put up displays of all kinds to say this is what happened. But here at Hanford, of those families still are scattered around the United States, and they have very little to remember the site that they knew by. When you think about--and I'll use the Bruggemanns because I know them the best--you think about Bruggemanns who had 1,400--they had 640 acres, but they leased more—and they had sheep, they had cattle, they had a working staff of something like ten to 20 people on and off, up and down. They were given two weeks to get rid of all that stuff and move. We've got to get that. We've got to capture that. We've got to help them. That's the piece. How’d we do? Did you guys go to sleep back there?
Man two: Huh?
[LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Well thanks very much, Gary, for sharing your stories. Like I said, I'm sure you and I could go on talking for quite a while.
Petersen: I recognize, too, you're really after the people who were here from pre-'63, but '63 to '65 or so. But I'm a Johnny-come-lately, so I look at it different.
Bauman: You know a lot of the history of the place, the stories.
Petersen: There's pieces that are really pretty fun. There's some of the stories, honestly, that you probably will never hear, because they have different twists to them. Some point, not with an audience, I will tell you there's another side to the Apollo 11 moon rocks that got here. It's a very unique story that only a couple people know, how they actually came to the site. And it was tough.
Bauman: Thanks so much, Gary.
Petersen: Yeah.
Northwest Public Television | Finley_Catherine
Robert Bauman: You ready? Ready to get started?
Catherine Finley: I guess.
Bauman: Okay. My name is Robert Bauman, and I'm conducting an oral history interview with Catherine Borden Finley. And today is July 9, 2013. And the interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. And I will be talking with Catherine Finley about her family's history and about her memories and experiences growing up in White Bluffs. And so maybe we should start. I'll ask you about your family, if you could tell me how and why or when your family came to the area, the White Bluffs area.
Finley: My father, Archie Borden, was born in White Bluffs. And his mother and his father, George Borden, come down from Priest Rapids some way. His father was a government surveyor. And he come down the river and settled in White Bluffs. And Grandma Pete came from Ellensburg. Her grandma [INAUDIBLE]. And they married, and they had the three sons. George Borden made a living by running horses between the river and Gable Mountain, and the army bought them. So let's see. And he drowned in the river when my dad was eight years old in 1906.
Bauman: And--
Finley: Pardon?
Bauman: He operated the ferry at White Bluffs?
Finley: Yes.
Bauman: In addition to running the horses.
Finley: George Borden also owned the ferry, and he had land. He was quite successful for that time. And my mother, she come from South Dakota. And I don't know why they made it up in White Bluffs. But they were married in 1927.
Bauman: And what was your mother's family's name?
Finley: Shanahan. And they had the seven children. And the oldest one just passed away last year. So there's still six of us left. And one of dad's brothers had three children. And we had lots of cousins and not too close together. It was quite sparsely settled, because of the orchards and pastures and things like that. We lived about two miles north of White Bluffs. And we just grew up. We had all sorts of things to do. We had all the animals for pets.
Bauman: What kind of animals did you have?
Finley: Oh, we had horses and cows and sheep and dogs and cats and lots of little banty chickens, which we packed every place. The sheep my dad kept on Locke’s Island and brought them over in the winter so they would lamb on the mainland. The cattle, the cows, stayed on the home place. We rode the cows. [LAUGHTER] I don't know if Dad ever knew that, but we did. [LAUGHTER] And now we also had horses that we rode. And that was not the main entertainment that we had or what kids do, but we spent many hours on the horses and playing with the other animals. And the neighbor kids migrated even though it was like a mile or more to the place, and we had the cousins to play with. And we played with the Indian children when they'd come in twice a year to fish, Johnny and his--I don't know how many. I think there was four or five men in the crew and their wives. And they were great playmates, those Indian boys were.
Bauman: What time of year would that have been?
Finley: They'd come in the spring for the spring salmon run. And they’d come back in the fall for the fall salmon run. And they dried their fish on long racks on the river, on the bar. And their horses were then turned loose on the bar with everybody else's. So we had a lot of fun with them. I think they're gone now.
Bauman: And about how long would they stay in the area during the spring?
Finley: They were there probably like a month, maybe a little longer, whenever the salmon run was that year. And they always had racks and racks of salmon. So it must have been very good fishing. And they fished at night. They had their canoes that they stored in dugout cellars and little wire pots. And they put hot coals in them or burned something, and anyway put them over the canoe, and the fish would come to the light. And they'd dip them. And then they'd bring them all in in the morning, and then the women proceeded to process them. [LAUGHTER] But it was interesting and a lot of fun. And we learned a lot from them. And Johnny was very, very interesting. He was the chief of the--they were Wanapum Indians. And then at the end of the season, then they would go either--sometimes they went on to the Yakima. Apparently they caught another type of fish there, down here at the Horn's Rapid Dam. Otherwise, they went back up to Priest Rapids and lived in their teepees until the dam was built. And they still lived in their teepees. They parked the car in the living room at the house that was built. And as I say, it was very interesting. And then when they closed it all, they went to the Yakima Reservation, or to Toppenish. But we played with--there was many different nationalities of children there, and we not only went to school with them, they were always welcome at home. And we were just as welcome in their home.
Bauman: Do you remember any of the neighbor families or children?
Finley: Oh, yeah, there was Johnson. They didn't have any children. They had a nice dairy. And Killians was a German family. Supplee was a German family. Walkers was a French family. I don't remember what the Goodners were. But they were all very successful in fruit. My dad didn't have any fruit, but he traded sheep for fruit, bartered. And we were very fortunate all during the Depression that that's what happened. So we were never hungry. We didn’t really know--I imagine the folks knew what the Depression was. Us kids didn't. We never had bought toys that I remember. My dad would carve things out of wood, out of mostly bark that come down the river, I don’t know, boats and mangers and whatever happened to be handy. But we could always go down on the bar with him--we never were allowed to go to the river by ourselves--and pick up odd driftwood. And we made animals out of them for some reason and rocks. Rocks made wonderful trucks and cars and just any old thing—corrals to keep all these stick animals in. And we went to school in a four-room schoolhouse. It was a large white building, divided in four rooms. And that was about a little over a mile from where we lived. So in the spring and in the fall when it was still warm, we walked to school. And Mr. Anderson, the school bus driver, would pick us up during the winter when it was cold. And he was a father of Harry Anderson that was quite active in the White Bluffs picnic when it was here.
Bauman: Do you remember any of your teachers from the school?
Finley: Yes, Mrs. Moody. Mrs. Moody, I remember her well. She taught kindergarten, first grade, second grade, third grade, and sometimes fourth grade, depending on how many children were present. And then my second teacher I had there was a Ms. Smit. And she taught the fourth, depending on who had the most room in the classroom, and fifth and sixth. And the seventh and eighth graders got to go upstairs. They were special. They were really big folks. But then when the government come in, the last year they held school we went for six days a week so we could get the time in because the letters come in early spring, like in February, and not knowing when they would close or however they were going to work it, so we were out of school the first part of May.
Bauman: So you went an extra day to make up for the--
Finley: Yeah, to make up for the school days that we wouldn't be able to go to school.
Bauman: So how old were you at the time, then?
Finley: I was in the--hm, gotta think. Fifth grade when they closed the school. I was a year older because I liked one grade real well. And the sixth grade I spent in Hanford. And then the folks moved and we went to Benton City. But it was fun. It was interesting, like I said. Sometimes I kind of feel sorry for kids that have so much that they didn't have to work for. They weren’t, you know, not denied--but we didn't know we were being denied anything. We didn't know we were supposed to be poor. [LAUGHTER] Or that he didn't have a car. Dad had a car, but he never used it. He rode one of the horses into work. It was just easier, and he could sleep coming home because the horse would come home.
Bauman: Did you place have electricity at all?
Finley: Oh, yes, we had electricity. We had indoor plumbing, until the government moved in and they cut it all off. I mean the plumbing and the water, stopped all the wells and brought our water out to us in 250-gallon wooden barrels every day. In the summer they'd put ice in them so it would be cold. Winter, they'd chip the ice off. Oh, and put us up a nice, new toilet. We really thought that was--an outside toilet with a moon and a star. Now, why that impressed kids, I don't know. But it did.
Bauman: What about a telephone? Did you have a telephone?
Finley: Oh, yeah, we had phones. My grandfather, Grandpa Shanahan, Mama's father, worked for the telephone company, Wilkerson and Brown out of Kennewick, had the telephone company. And then of course, when the government come in, the government had it. My dad was a refrigeration engineer. He made ice for the railroad. And in the summer, they would bring their fruit cars down, and he would pack each end of the car with ice. And they put all their produce and food in the center. And as long as it was moving, there were fans moving in it, and it kept it cold. And that railroad went back to Othello, and the Milwaukee line picked them up.
Bauman: Okay.
Finley: But we got to go on the train. We got to ride in the caboose. If we wanted to go to Seattle, we rode in the caboose. And the brakie took care of us, no trouble at all. Mom would just put us on the train, and by that time, my grandparents had moved to Seattle. And he'd go down to King's Station and take us off, and then put us back on when our visit was over, and we'd come back.
Bauman: Did you get to do that very often?
Finley: We done it probably twice a year. Sometimes we stayed longer. Sometimes it was just a short time.
Bauman: Now, how big was your property?
Finley: I really don't know. We didn't have a large place. The most I think, other than orchard, I think most of the land was kind of leased, because the island, he owned. And the government bought that. But I don't know how much land they had on the mainland. It seemed like an awful lot once in a while.
Bauman: And so in addition to the house that was on your property, were there other buildings on the property as well?
Finley: On the last house we lived in, yes, there was a barn, and there was this two-story house. And there was a large barn and the chicken coop and whatever buildings that would be on a farm. On the other one, there was a barn and a chicken coop. And they called them soldier tracks at that time because they were built for the men coming back from World War I. And there was a house and a barn a chicken coop and a nice, new toilet. That always seemed to be very important. And, well, it wasn't occupied then. Some other person could lease it for the land. I don't know how many acres were in even those places. But in one of Dad's places, it was up, and then there was a flat, and then it dropped on down to the river, to the river bar. And there was a lot of land in that place, as I remember. It looked like a lot of land to a kid.
Bauman: Now again, how many siblings did you have, how many brothers and sisters?
Finley: Seven. I have one brother, and I had five sisters.
Bauman: And were you all born in White Bluffs?
Finley: Mm-hm. Teresa was the last one. She was born in '43, I think.
Bauman: Okay. So we talked about the school. I was wondering about other community events or celebrations.
Finley: Oh, they had the grange hall down in Old Town, which is where the ferry landed. That was where any big gathering was held. It was a bigger building. And we had a theater that run movies. Mr. Anderson, the school bus driver, he also run the theater. And I think he brought a show in probably like once a month for kids and adults. And there was a lot of little school plays. And the high school, there was always the high school. And there was always the ball games. So there was there was a lot to do, as I remember.
Bauman: You mentioned that your father wouldn't let you go down to the river without him there, is that--?
Finley: An adult had to be with us.
Bauman: Did you ever go swimming in the river?
Finley: Oh, yeah. We swam in the river. And he went back and forth across river all the time. He had a boat, and the river was part of living. But Mom always made sure that we didn't go down by ourselves.
In the summertime when the water come up, it come up clear up almost over the whole bar. And it was very swift, because it went through, cut off like an island. There Barrett's Island. And the water flowed through that in the main island, and it was swift. And the river was quite narrow then, because there was no dams on it. And I think Dad always said it went at 12 miles an hour. And there were whirlpools that his dad drowned in, was a whirlpool. And so we were well watched. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Sure.
Finley: And we played with the cows. Like I said, we had the cows we rode.
Bauman: You mentioned taking the train to Seattle.
Finley: Mm-hm.
Bauman: Did you go to any of the other communities, Pasco or to [INAUDIBLE]?
Finley: They would go to Yakima. And that's where I was born, and then they took me to White Bluffs. And I don't know why they went to Yakima, because that was about 60. And Pasco must have had the hospital by then. But they didn't have a bridge across it. So they had to ferry there. And I don't know why they didn't. Probably because Benton County wasn't a county at that time. There was a Yakima County, but no Benton County. And that's where they went, and Pasco. And we went to Walla Walla and Prosser, of course. Then by the time I was born, that was a county, so then all the business had to be tended there.
Bauman: We talked a little bit about when the government came in 1943 and the impact it had on the school and the school days, an extra day. I was wondering what memories you have of that. What response did your parents have to being told that they had to leave?
Finley: It was very hard for my dad. Because he had lived there his life. And I think one thing that was bad, they just come in and took the property and said, the next letter, you have 10 days to leave. And nobody knew when that 10 days was there. Some of them got their letters very early. My mom and dad didn't get theirs until they closed the plant. Nobody could go into it. But the fruit farmers had to leave their crops on their trees. And that was very hard on them, and no future, no money, cash in hand, like that they could go out and buy another place. And most of them had just been farmers, so they were spread all over. I mean, they moved wherever they could get a place to live. And it was hard on them. My dad sold sheep and sold most of the cattle, kept a couple of the horses. And he moved to Benton City in '44, I think, we moved there finally. But he worked there. He kept his job there as making ice.
Bauman: Okay.
Finley: Though the train didn't use it for that purpose or transporting food. DuPont used it for the summer months. They had huge, large holes in the ground. They just dug down in rock and covered it with sawdust, put sawdust in it. And you covered it with plastic and put ice in it, and then covered it again. And then in the summer when the plant couldn't produce enough ice for their needs, they dug that up or uncovered it and took it out, it was just like when they put it in there. We watched him do that, going back and forth to Hanford on the bus. Because the bus ran parallel of where they were building this vast hole in the ground. And that was very interesting. Because no kid could understand what they were doing. And at the same part, they were building F area. So we watched that, what you could see of it. You never knew if you were going to get home at night on the school bus for fear they’d dug a trench across the road.
Bauman: You actually stayed there. You were there for several months after they started constructing--
Finley: Yes, oh, yeah, we were there probably a year and a half after--no, we were there longer than that after we got the letter. Like I said, we were the very last ones out there. We left and the gate was--the civilians couldn't go back in then, just the workmen. They had taken out all of Camp Hanford. And all of the construction work was done, or finishing work on the plants that they had started to build. After we left, they built some more. They put H in right down where we lived, tore down everything. They tore down—they put bulldozers through most of the buildings out there, probably to prevent coyotes and rats and whatever else from occupying them.
Bauman: Do you remember what you were told about what was being done out there?
Finley: As I remember the letter, it just said that on such-and-such a day, your land was taken by the government. And no, nobody knew what was going on. And that caused a lot of hard feelings, because they had their share of boys that went to the service. And they weren't allowed back in to see their parents who were working there. Like the Gilhulys, they had the garage. They run the garage. And all of the town people that had businesses, if they had a boy, the boy couldn't come back, which made a lot of hard feelings. And there again, as I said, they took everything, or changed all the housing. They put many families in--they would put two families to a home if there was enough room for two bedrooms, because there was no housing for all of these thousands of people coming in. And we didn't have to share our house, but any house that had been vacated, that's how they utilized them and took down the outbuildings of any barns or sheds or things like that. They were very nice people, the ones that come in. We got to know a lot of them, being kids. It was DuPont that come and took our house. We weren't happy about that.
Bauman: The families that you got to know who came, were they from all over the place?
Finley: Oh, yeah, one family was from Alabama. One was from Louisiana. One was from Boston. And I can remember us kids talking and laughing. We'd laugh at them, because they talked different from us. And we talked different from them to them, too. [LAUGHTER] But they were all nice people.
Bauman: And you mentioned that your father owned the island?
Finley: Yes, mm-hm.
Bauman: And he sold that?
Finley: The government bought that.
Bauman: The government bought it from him. Do you know how much money he received for that?
Finley: No, it wasn’t--I don't know how much they got. First they leased it, and when they knew that it was going to be--I guess; I don't have any other reason--a longer span of time, they bought the island and turned it over to, I think, Fish and Wildlife habitat. It's still there. He was very proud of that island because there was a large Indian cemetery on it. And he guarded that with his life to keep it from being dug. And several times during the night, he'd go. If he saw a bonfire over there, he'd go down to the river and row across it and get them off the island. And also, so they wouldn't set it afire. But he guarded that cemetery with his eye teeth.
Bauman: I just want to go back to the community itself a little bit again. You talked a little bit about the grange, was it?
Finley: The grange, mm-hm.
Bauman: And school. Were there churches that were nearby?
Finley: Oh, yes. There was a Methodist church and a Presbyterian church, a Catholic church. But there was many different religions. There was Seventh Day Adventists. In 1937 I believe it was--I'm not sure about the dates, they brought--and I don't even know how many. I think there was something like 13 families of Mormons in, which was kind of sad. Because they brought them in in August, and they had no time to put wood in or gather wood or canned--only what they could bring. And it was a very long, cold winter. And they did suffer. I mean, us kids thought, oh, they must have been poor. [LAUGHTER] Because they didn't have wood. I can remember my dad going and getting a couple of the men, and we had a flume in the river, which in high water caught all the logs and everything coming down the river. And he took them down there and told him to get what wood they needed to keep from freezing. And that winter, as I said, was very, very cold. And it was a very long winter. It was just kind of unfortunate.
Bauman: Were those families able to stay on?
Finley: Oh, yeah. They, come the next spring, they planted their gardens like everybody else did and went to work for one of the fruit farmers. And most of them didn't leave until the government come in. They were very nice people.
Bauman: The town itself, I was going to ask you, are there any--you mentioned there was a theater. Were there any businesses that you remember at the time?
Finley: Oh, yeah, on one side of the street there was a barber shop and drugstore and a grocery store. And the hotel burned down. I don't know when, but in the '30s, it burned. And then there was a bank and a tavern and a little park where they had the bands and things and a post office and a tavern. They had all the good things in life. A couple of gas stations, the train depot and a creamery, or where everybody took their cream in for the Twin City Creamery to come out and get. They picked it up. And I'm trying to think what else they had--and the coal storage. The coal storage I think was the largest building there. Well, the concrete part’s still standing. They didn't take down, but all around this--or on two sides if it, because one side was next to the railroad, there was packing sheds for fruit. And Dad just filled up huge canyons with ice to ship the fruit. There was a lumber yard there. Really, it was quite complete. And Hanford was also quite complete. They each had a ferry to get back and forth across the ferry. And then there was another ferry up the river, the Wahluke Ferry, which- I'm trying to think of where their end was. I think the Wahluke ended at Burke's Corners, up above the road. And it went to Ephrata. The White Bluffs Ferry went to Othello, the road. And the Hanford Ferry went out what is now the blocks. You could get to Ringgold and all in that area. And there was a road up down the other side of the river. It went from Uncle Matt's place, you could go up to Ringgold.
Bauman: I think you mentioned earlier something about a baseball team, sports, I’m wondering about, for the schools.
Finley: We had baseball teams. They had I think mainly basketball. I don't remember football. But there again, I wouldn't have been interested in that. But they always had music. They had bands. All three of the towns had bands. And yeah, because somebody told me they went to White Bluffs to play baseball one time. So they must have had a team. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: When you mentioned that when your family did leave, you moved to Benton City?
Finley: Yes.
Bauman: And did your father have sheep and cattle there again?
Finley: No, we had a milk cow for a long time, and then we finally give that up. But we kept the horses. We always had horses. All us kids rode. He did, too. He was a really good horseman. But these weren't-- mostly just us kids' horses. And he just rented pasture for those. We didn't have any land for a long time. We had a building in town and a house, but we didn't have any land. Eventually, he did buy land. And part of the kids still live there. Three of my sisters still live there.
Bauman: So you all grew up, spent the rest of your years [INAUDIBLE].
Finley: Yes, we all stayed together. I'm trying think. I think Veronica is the furthest one away, and she is in Goldendale, so she didn't get too far. One lives in Pendleton. My brother went to--was it Korea or Vietnam? Must have been Korea. That was in the '50s, yeah. And when he come back, he spent his time on different islands. Thank God he didn't--he joined the Navy, and he became a mechanic, an air mechanic. And they put him on the islands. He come back, went to school, went to college, got his degree in education and went back to the South Seas and taught there until he retired. And he's just younger than I am. He bought land and built himself a house up at Chesaw when he come back, which is up by Oroville, I think, and happy as a lark.
Bauman: I was wondering what you think would be important for people to know about what it was like growing up in White Bluffs? What sort of a place it was.
Finley: It was warm. It was a very warm community. The people were your friends. And they helped each other. If somebody needed something, somebody would either share or give or provide for them. And they didn't do it for--just because family needed it at that time. Or if one was sick, somebody was always available to take them to the hospital, which was either Pasco or Yakima. And I think it was just-- and to be happy. The people were happy. There weren't--not too many grouchy ones that I can remember. And to do with what you have. Don't want something more if you can't afford it, I guess, in this day and age. Just be happy with what you have, and work for something better.
Bauman: There's one question I meant to ask you earlier that I'll ask you now, and that is the weather in the area. I know we get high winds and dust storms.
Finley: Yes, there was high—
Bauman: What about growing up? Did that impact your community at all?
Finley: No. The ground wasn't tore up like it is now. So we didn't have the massive--I don't remember the dust storms, let me put it that way. We did have wind. And it was very cold in the winter and very hot in the summer. I mean, it was 120 and nobody thought anything about it. Very few shade trees. So it was hot, but you could always got get a pan of water. Mom used to--the wash tubs that they had then, she'd fill one every day and put it outside and us kids played in it. And I guess we were just used to it, because it didn't seem to bother us. And cold, as I said, the school bus took us to school in the winter because it was cold, and it was a mile or a little more to school. And there was no shelter, no nothing. You just were walking on sand. That's mostly what's out there.
Bauman: Yeah. Do you remember the river ever freezing over at all?
Finley: I don't. I don't remember it freezing. My dad would tell about the river freezing, and that's how they brought their sheep down. They kept them on--I don't know why they took them to the mountains, either, but they took them to pasture in the summer and then wait for the water to freeze to bring them over. And they lambed and sheared before the thaw so they could get them back across the river. Otherwise they had to ferry them or drag them clear down and put them across the bridge that they had then built between Pasco and Kennewick. And that was quite dangerous, he said, because they could only run so many sheep at a time. And it took a long time to put a band of sheep across. I can remember being--we had a cow that got down the outside one time, and she froze, instead of getting in the barn where she belonged. She was a young heifer, and she just didn't know, I guess. But people prepared for it. They knew it was going to be cold. It got cold early in the year. And it stayed that way until March or April. Now, the river didn't stay froze that long. It was just cold. But it wasn't cold enough to keep that river frozen. But they took the horse and everything else across it. I mean, he remembers it. But I remember the freezing out quite far from the bank, but not freezing across where they could put animals on it.
Bauman: Right. Is there anything I haven't asked you about or any family stories or special memories that stand out that--
Finley: [LAUGHTER] What kids do for entertainment?
Bauman: Sure. [LAUGHTER]
Finley: Yeah. [LAUGHTER] We had this real nice family down the road a ways, and they had a mule. That was one of those poor Mormons that didn't know what they were getting into. And they had two boys. And Delores and I decided one day that we would put the mule harness on a horse. We did not know that there was the difference in them. There is. So we took Dolly, the horse, and took her up on the little knoll and hooked her to this wagon. I don't know where us kids got the wagon. Somebody gave it to us. And hooked the horse. We didn't know you were supposed to have shafts or something on this to stop this wagon. Well, she went to barn with this wagon bumping her all the time in the back end. And Dad came out and was quite upset because we had knocked the door off the barn. So we went in. We took Dolly, took her back out to the pasture. And we thought, well, now we've done that, and that was because it was too steep. That hill was too steep. So Mom and Dad had to go to Yakima. And us kids stayed at home, because there was nothing, nobody there to harm us. You know? [LAUGHTER] And we left Randall, my brother. We took this cow, Dolly, and put this mule harness on her. I don't know how. [LAUGHTER] And took her up about a quarter of a mile from the place through an old cut down apple orchard. And when we waved our hands and dropped them down, Randall was supposed to sic the dog on the calf in the barn. Well, Delores didn't make it to the wagon. She put me in first, and that cow went home. When we got home, the wagon did not survive it. And Dad couldn't figure out what was wrong with old Dolly that night. She was so touchy when he went to milk her. [LAUGHTER] We didn't try that again. But there was always two of us, so if one got in trouble, we could share it. One time we took the sheep who were over still on the mainland. And he had a nasty, nasty buck, but he produced good lambs. And there again, we were warned, you don't get in that corral with that buck. Because he actually could have killed a kid, I imagine, if he’d, you know. And Delores and I figured and figured if we got two ropes on him, we could tie him to two different posts in the corral. And then we could ride him. This is a big sucker, nice long wool and everything he had. And we did. Well, finally we wore—anyway, we rode that poor, old buck ‘til he just laid down. And Dad couldn't figure out what was--his name was George-- couldn't figure out what was wrong with George that night, because he just didn't want to eat anything. We never told him until we were grown--and I guess we were both married by that time—what happened to George.
Bauman: Figured it was safe to tell him then.
Finley: He just looked at us and he said, well, that's probably only one of the things you done that I didn't know about, sweetheart. [LAUGHTER] But we created our own fun. And to us, it was not mean or cruel or mischievous, because we knew the cow wouldn't die. She was too ornery. And we finally broke Dolly to ride with a saddle, so that was a little safer, too. We just had fun and grew up. And I don't know what else we done. Spent 13, 14 years there. I must have done something more. We worked hard in the summer. I remember that. Because Mom had to can. She canned the fruit. If somebody butchered--it always surprised me that if somebody in the community butchered, and they had too much meat, then it was spread out. Because there was no way of keeping it. And neighbors got along well that way.
Bauman: So what sorts of work or chores did you do as a young child growing up? What sorts of things did you help out with?
Finley: Oh heck, I could cook a meal by the time I was in the third grade. I learned to make bread, canned. We all canned. That was a whole family project. It wasn't just one person there, because it all had to be done on a cook stove. And somebody had to bring in wood and peel fruit. It had to be continuous. And what else? I remember Mama canning meat one time--twice. And that had to be cooked for six hours. Because it was just a water bath. They didn't have pressure. Later on, I guess, there was pressure cookers. But that's how they cooked it, put it in a wash boiler. And I think it held 12 quarts, the wash boiler did. And they cooked it all day, all day long. And that stove had to be kept burning. So on that day also, if you were canning, you also made bread. Because the oven was hot. And it was busy. It was a busy time. And then in spring, they had to take care of the stock. And the fruit was a little bit earlier than what it is here. It was just like a week earlier. Of course, it ended a week earlier, too. But there was always tomatoes and Mom put up an awful lot of tomatoes and peaches. I can remember that.
Bauman: So you grew a lot of your own--
Finley: Grandma Pete, my dad's mother, was a peach farmer. So they always had peaches. And she also grew a very large garden. Or they would go down to Ringgold and there was the Japanese family there that had a truck farm. You could always get your tomatoes there in quantity.
Bauman: Do you remember what their name was?
Finley: The name of the--
Bauman: Japanese family?
Finley: No, I have no idea. We just went down there and they were wonderful gardeners. They had everything up off the ground. They planted the plants and then they put chicken wire mesh panels over it so that the tomato plant grew up through the mesh and all the tomatoes then were on the wire. They were never on the ground. I always thought that was amazing. And they had corn. They had all vegetables. I just remember the folks buying the cantaloupe and the tomatoes. But they had-- I imagine it was a good sized truck farm. It was to me then. But I don't actually how big it was. And there was always apples. And apricot trees grow wild almost, so there was always plenty of apricots and apples. There was somebody had apple trees that they couldn't use them up. And they just simply shared. They had too much, they shared. It really kind of spoiled people for today. There's a lot I can't understand about today, why people don't get along better. [LAUGHTER] But I'm trying to think what else us kids would do. We played on a pile of gravel. That was our mountain. White Bluffs was very flat. Because the bluffs surrounded the whole river. The river is on our side, but you know. And unless you went to Yakima, there's a very small opening between Rattlesnake and the Bluffs in reality, just enough for the river to flow through. It was quite flat and hot. So you could do most anything. You could swim in the irrigation ditch.
Bauman: Where was the pile of gravel that you--
Finley: What?
Bauman: Where was the pile of gravel that you played on?
Finley: Oh, the pile of gravel? Well, I guess they were going to gravel the road. They never got it done because they just piled this big pile of gravel there across the road from us. Well, for a long time, there was a sign on it. I don't know what the sign said. But there was one on it. [LAUGHTER] But it was sloped on one side, and then you could jump off the steep side, see. Boy, oh boy, we'd run up and jump off and run up and jump off. Daddy come out and says, now you know, Joe's going to get after you for that. Well, Joe didn't see us, so I guess we thought we were safe. It's still out there today, but it isn't near as large as I thought it was. I've been out a couple of times while I worked there in the '50s. I worked out there and drove that same circuit.
Bauman: What part of the site did you work at, what did you--?
Finley: I worked out of 300. I delivered instruments to the areas. So I had to go to each area every day. And I've been there since then also, and the roads are still there if you know where you're going. You can get around pretty good. Now, they're not in top--some of them are still paved.
Bauman: So how long did you work there, then?
Finley: I worked out there two years. And then we had a family, and I didn't go back to work.
Bauman: When is the last time you were out there?
Finley: Oh, let's see. The White Bluffs picnic--I don't quite remember when it stopped. But every year, you could go out there if you went to the picnic. You could drive out there on one afternoon. I think it was Saturday afternoon. And you could go through town. You went through town, and down to the old ferry landing, down to Old Town. And then in later years, if you could, you could go to where your home was. If the roads were there. And I drove out a couple of times to where we lived, because we lived on the river. And the last time I went out, there was this fence and big concrete building there. I knew that's probably the last time I'd see the homestead. They had to build H. But that's all right. It was a good place to live, good place to grow up in. And you learned a lot of things that you didn't know you learned.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much for being willing to come here and share your stories and your memories.
Finley: They've really been terrific. I will try and get some pictures. Can I just call the number on the letter and just bring them in?
Bauman: Absolutely, yeah, sure.
Finley: Because we have them. I just don't know where in the world I've put them. We even have one of Johnny and Daddy, Johnny Buck, the Indian, the chief. He was quite old then. But he would take his kids and tell us in Indian--my dad could speak Indian, or that dialect of Indian. And he'd talk to us in Indian. We never bothered to learn. Isn't that sad?
Bauman: Did your dad know that dialect from having spent a lot of time with them?
Finley: Yes, he grew up there. Johnny, as a young man, worked for his father, George, and the horses. And I don't know, but then after George died, he still come and fished, his tribe. And Dad just grew up with him. They were always part of the neighborhood. You knew they were coming when the fish started to run. And then you watched for them. They had beautiful horses, or I thought, Delores and I thought. The other thing, he had a friend. He was in Yakima. He lived in Yakima. And he would come down. And him and Daddy would visit. And us kids would listen to the stories. And one day, he turned his hands over, and they were white. And I never realized that the man was black. We had no--there was no difference in people. This man was the tallest, blackest Negro. I've seen some from Africa lately that are more recent, but he was a delightful--he was an apple grower, had a large apple orchard in Yakima. And had he not turned those hands over, I, to this day, would have swore he was just like us. And I think that is one that is very important for kids, that there is no difference in people. They're all--the Indians looked the same to me. I don't remember what this man's name was, because he did. Or my mother's parents that were strict Irish. They looked the same. There was no--we even had a Filipino family in there. He was good. He raised raspberries. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: In White Bluffs?
Finley: Yeah, in White Bluffs, yeah. He raised berries.
Bauman: Do you happen to remember his name at all?
Finley: His name was George--I can't remember his last name. He moved to Benton City. And they still bought berries from him.
Bauman: He moved to Benton City after 1943, after the government--
Finley: Yeah, mm-hm. I remember a lot of people. I mean, Mrs. Barrett, her husband was one of the first railroad men out. He worked for the Union Pacific. And they lived at Wahluke at the time of the Walla Walla massacre. And she'd tell a story. I had a lot of opportunity to learn. And she was a sweet lady. She raised three boys and a daughter. I never remember her husband, but I remember her very, very well. And Russos was another--I don't know what nationality they were, but they all seemed to have something to do with fruit. And there was just a great, big mixture of all types of people and all getting along very, very well.
Bauman: Well, thank you again. I really appreciate you coming in today to share your stories and memories. Thanks very much.
Finley: Well, I thank you. And I hope it turns out halfway decent.
Northwest Public Television | Sather_Virginia
Man one: Yes. I’m recording. And okay.
Robert Bauman: Okay. We're going to go ahead and get started. I thought we'd start by having you say your name and spell your last name for us.
Virginia Sather: Virginia Sather--S-A-T-H-E-R.
Bauman: Thank you. My name's Robert Bauman, and today's date is October 16th, 2013. And we're recording this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So I wonder if we could start by having you tell me what brought you to Hanford, when you came here, why you came.
Sather: Well, I was working at a Navy hospital near Los Angeles, California in what they called ship service. It's a PX in the Army. And I was more or less recruited to work in the PX at Hanford Recreation Building, and in that building, they had a beer hall, and a soda fountain, and a ten-pin bowling alley, and the PX. Just kind of a service place where everything was based on the Army. The barracks and mess halls, it was all Army language. I'd been used to Navy language. And I called my sister, and I was telling her about it in Des Moines, Iowa where I was born and raised, and oh, she said, that sounds good. They told us they'd pay our way out. And your room and board would be furnished in your pay. And if you stayed at least four months, you got your way paid back. So we thought, well, we could try for four months. Her husband had just been in the Medical Corps, and he'd been in the European theater. And at that time, they were sending some European theater people over to the Japanese theater, and she was going to be alone anyway, maybe ‘til the end of the war. So she said well, let's do it. So that's what we did. So we came into to Pasco in the middle of the night with the train. Next morning, came out to--taken out to Hanford and processed and all. Just everything, just click, click, click. And we got used to standing in line for everything. And I don't mean a little line. I mean like lines we'd never seen before--blocks long. One grocery store, one drugstore, one Sears order office. Just one of anything for 50,000, 60,000 people. That would be like having one of everything in Kennewick. So I don't know, we just--her husband—then his orders were changed, as sometimes happen in the military, at the last minute, he's actually on a ship going over to the Pacific area. And they changed, and he was sent back to the States. So she stayed her four months. By that time, she got this notice. And so she left, so I was on my own by then. And I just thought, well, I'll just stick it out because it's a pretty good job, and I met my husband-to-be, and I don't know. We kept thinking, well, when the war's over, we'll be laid off. The time came and went, and we didn't get laid off. And they shut down some reactors, and we said well, we're going to be laid off. At that time, I was working in a fuels production section for N Reactor and my husband was the manager in fuels production for the older reactors, what they called the Al-Si fuels. So we said, we're going to be laid off. They shut down the reactors, but they just took the Al-Si people and transferred them over to my section and I'm the one that got laid off. Other people got laid off. But I didn't actually get laid off, because we were on an excess list, and there was another opening in research and development. So I went there, and something—and then they dismantled that in three years. So then I went out to the N Reactor. So I was actually in several reactor areas and all the production separations areas. So when one door closed, another one opened up, and I just was flexible enough to go with the flow. And here I am, 40 years later. Well actually, I worked 40 years, so it's 70 years later because I've been retired for 30 years.
Bauman: Do you remember your first impressions when you--coming from Los Angeles to Pasco and Richland?
Sather: Well, of course, the area surrounding Los Angeles is actually a semi-desert. And of course, everything was dug up, so there was just dust, dust everywhere, just heavy equipment everywhere—the whole 600 square miles. And there was a lack of a lot to do because the hospital where I worked was about 40 miles. It'd been a former country club when the Navy took it over. And had indoor pools, outdoor pools, golf course, and the whole nine yards, so there was lots to do. And on the weekends, we'd go into LA or wherever, Hollywood, everywhere, sometimes clear to San Diego if we could--transportation was very scarce during the war. Find somebody who had gas and hitch a ride. [LAUGHTER] And yeah, that was my first impression. I guess I was like most people. I must've missed something when I was in my geography class in grade school, because I, like a lot of people, I was looking for forests and mountains. But I was used to flat-flat coming from Iowa. But of course, there was lots of woods in Iowa. I guess being young--I don't know. What was I? 21, 20, 21. I guess I was 21. Yeah, I was very flexible. I had changed jobs different times before. I guess I was kind of adventuresome for those times. Sometimes the older people criticized me because by the time I was 21, I'd been in several states. One summer, my cousin and her husband had a carnival that went all over the South and Midwest, and they took me on one summer and I travelled with that carnival. So I just got used to making do, also just making do, not expecting any luxuries, places to stay, or anything like that. So it was primitive. The barracks were just bare floors and cots and a washroom. They were H shaped, so the cross in the center was the wash rooms and the barbed wire all around. Looked more like a prison camp, actually. I know when we moved to Richland and they had a Prisoner-of-War camp out on the Yakima River near the dam, Horn Rapids, near there. And we went to Benton City by way of that road one time, and we saw that, and I said, oh, look. It looks like the Hanford—[LAUGHTER]—original Hanford. Yeah, it's kind of primitive, but I think young people nowadays may be kind of spoiled. I don't know whether they would really put up with that, what we put up with then.
Bauman: You said you were sort of recruited. What were you told about Hanford? Did you know what was being worked on?
Sather: Well, actually, they talked to me first about Alaska. And then even before I talked to my sister about it, a recruiter called me and said, oh, the weather has been so bad out there, they put a stop to everything for a while. But I've got this place that's just as good in eastern Washington. And there's going to be a lot of young people. It turned out, there was a lot of old people, too, because the middle type people were in the army or in the military. And of course, there was probably 100 men to every female. There were just very few women. And mostly because of the housing, because a lot of women in those days would be married by that time. And if they came, it was the same situation. You still had to be separated in the barracks. And the men didn't like that at all, so they'd go to Yakima or Walla Walla or someplace searching for housing. But the women liked it, because the housekeeping was all done for you. The beds were made, the linens were changed, the bathroom was cleaned, and you had the mess hall, all the food you wanted at the mess hall. I think the women really liked it. Of course, I was not married and didn't have any children, but the ones that did, I think they thought it was kind of a vacation.
Bauman: And how long did you stay in the dormitories then—or the barracks?
Sather: Well, the dormitories were in Richland, so--
Bauman: Oh, the barracks--
Sather: Yeah, we can't say dormitories because they weren't that fancy. They were built in Richland for the operation people. That's where people's going to stay. They must have opened in '45 down on Lee Boulevard. One of the buildings is still there on the corner across from the Federal Building. That was the cafeteria. Then they all down Lee and Knight Street where they had the post office and the bank. They were two-story dormitories, and I never lived in there because by that time, I was married. So then we were assigned to a house in Richland.
Bauman: How long were you in the women's barracks then?
Sather: Oh, '43, '44. Pretty close to two. We closed out Hanford like about, well, right after the war was over. We got our house in '44, and I know I was commuting for a while to Hanford, probably a year and a half. And then we got a house—couldn't get any houses ‘til probably late '44. We got a house in Richland, and we were there ten years, and then we built the house in Kennewick up by the mall, and we've been there ever since.
Bauman: You said you met your husband here. How did the two of you meet and where was he working?
Sather: Well, people laugh when they hear this story. I have one girlfriend still left from my graduating class, same age I am. She lives out in Manhattan Beach. So when I was in California, she'd gone out with her folks after high school because of the airplane factories, and so we kept in touch. And I saw a lot of her and everything, and she asked my husband about it one time. She asked him, she said, what did you like about Ginger—I was known as Ginger—when you first met her? And he said her spirit, her spirit! And Betty Jean said, have you got enough spirit yet? He said, just about. I think we'd been married about 50 years by then and now we're coming up on 70 now. But I don't know. I was on an afternoon shift at that time, and afternoon shift, we went to--we worked six days, ten to 12 hour days. Supposed to be ten, but people didn't show up. They were gone. People just disappeared. The rules and everything was so strict and security was so strict. Even after we moved into Richland, neighbors would just disappear, especially if they had unruly children. Any little infraction or anything like that, you could disappear. And the FBI, they had total control. It was really like some third world country there for a long while until the city was sold in '58. Your boss or the top guy in DuPont or General Electric, United Nuclear, they could not—caught with a weapon or drinking or any type of malfeasance, I mean, you just disappeared. I mean, no 30 day notice or anything. Looked up, the house was empty. Or maybe you'd look out and see a moving van. Yeah, it was strict. Well anyway, we would have a ten or 12 hour shift. So they had eight mess halls. They could serve 5,000 people in each one of those at a time, and the only one that was 24 hours was number eight. So usually, you'd go with some of your coworkers there after your shift. So he was there. There'd been a guy about age and my father who would come in when it was spare time. He'd talk to me there at the register, at the PX. And he kept telling me, I've got this roommate, this fellow, he's about your age. And I think you should meet him. And I kept thinking, oh my God. What's he trying to pawn off on me? And he kept it up and kept it up, and I kept telling him I was busy or I was booked up or something, anything. But anyway, I got caught dead. He came over to my table at this mess hall in the middle of the night at the end of the shift. I think we got off at midnight that night. And he came dragging this poor guy over. You could tell he didn't want to come. He just had a hold of him and actually pulling him over, and my husband's 6'3" and 189 pounds. [LAUGHTER] And this guy, Reardon, his name was Reardon, he says, this is Dick Sather, and I told him you wanted to meet him. Oh, I'm telling you, it was a good thing there was the rules. And so I said, not particularly. And he went on and so, well he said, well don't you want him to just sit down and visit with you? I said, not particularly. I remember everything he said. People still tease me about it. Not particularly. And my husband the same coloring that I am, but his face still turned red. And of course, he didn't know what to do, young, naive boy. He's six months older than I am. Anyway, so the next time they both came over to my register--and of course they bought some, I don't know, shaving lotion or something. Anyway, so then my husband started coming in. Then it graduated till we went over and sat down in the soda pop place and had soda pop and visited. Well, that went on for about three weeks, and I didn't find out till very much later that my husband-to-be was dating a gal, and he was booked up for this time. And so he was just playing it cool till he could get rid of this other gal, evidently. So anyway, I found that out. Even after I was married, this guy who got us together told me that. And so then we started, if you could call it dating when somebody drops you off in the middle of the night at a barbed wire fence with a guard. They had buses going to Walla Walla, Pasco, and Yakima, and it cost you a nickel. And they said they had to charge that because of the insurance rules. So on your day off--which usually, we got one day off--we would go, see a movie, have dinner and go back to our barracks, and it went like that. And so he bought me a ring. I think it was in March. I met him in January, I think, December. It might have been December, I think. And we were engaged, and then we married--but I didn't want to get married. He said, when do you want to get married? I said, about 30. I was thinking about 30. So then he started talking about, well, he was going to go to Alaska and all this, that and the other. So we had it set for May. My mother-in-law for years still sent my anniversary card in May, but they actually got married in June because they changed the date twice. We got married in June, so in coming June, I'll be married 70 years.
Bauman: Wow.
Sather: But that's how we met, and that's just the opposite of me. I'm a class A, he's a class B. He's mostly Norwegian and he's pretty laid back. He's one of these, whatever. Whatever you want. Do what you want. Yeah, it's worked out very well, and he's not here with me now because he's lost his memory. Because he could tell you some tales, too.
Bauman: You talked about the buses going to Yakima and Walla Walla for entertainment. And was there ever entertainment on the site at all?
Sather: No, no. But the surrounding communities did not cater to us at all. You know now, you go to a convention or some big thing in the town, have sale signs and discounts at the restaurants and do everything to welcome you. No, they were very, very provincial. Well, so many of them either got displaced or knew or had a relative or somebody who was displaced because these towns were just seven miles apart. And the families in those times were practically incestuous. I don't mean that in a bad way, but I mean, they just were cousins and aunts and uncles. And I had to be careful because I might be talking to the wrong person. [LAUGHTER] But no, no. Although they tried to make all the money they could, divided their house--just like they did in California and still do--to illegal housing, turn the garage into a room and did everything to make money off of you. They didn't turn any of that down. But no, the natives, they were not friendly. A lot of people remarked on that. We were intruders, and I can see their point of view--we were. Tearing up their land, their orchards, and their vineyards, and their little mint fields, which is all the world to them. People back in those days had never really been out of the county. People didn't travel till the wartime. They didn't marry outside. Of course, with the wartime, they not only married people from another state, they married them from another country. But my time, of course, that was just unheard of ‘til wartime. And the only ones that were halfway decent that could think outside the box enough to see that it was for the war effort, even though they didn't know what it was. They just took it in their stride. But by and large, we later got personally acquainted and socially visited with some of the old timers here that the John Dam Plaza, the John Hazel Dam. He actually came from Norway, but he'd lived here most of his life. He came here as a young man, but there were several people like that. He had a store, a general store, there on George Washington Way. And I found out that this went on all over where people were displaced with--maybe not on that scale, but I mean, an airplane factory went in, or a shipyard went in, or something was expanded, and they got displaced because the government had the right of domain. And I think during the war, the President had all the executive powers that were ever heard of.
Bauman: You mentioned that at some point, you were able to get a house.
Sather: Yeah.
Bauman: Where was that, in Richland? Or what sort of housing were you able to get then?
Sather: We got a house. It was a prefab, and I got--I think I gave them to the historical society down at the museum—where they came in sections, I think from Portland. And we were in that a little while, and I got up--it was December 1st. Turned out to be the coldest day of the year. And I smelled smoke. And they had heaters in the wall, 220 heaters in the wall. And then they had 220 wiring that ran inside a wood. Everything was plywood, and it was treated with a propellant, a subtype varnish or something. So it really went up fast. So then we got a pre-cut. And pieces like trusses and all were made in Spokane in a mill, and then came down and put together, there are not very many of those. One was two-bedroom and one was three-bedroom, so we were in that for a while till we built our house, five years I guess until we built our house. But when they did the fire investigation, we found out that's what it was, was electrical. I went in to grab some stuff out of the closets, and we didn't have closet doors, so we just had drapes across there—and they were on fire. But I just overreacted and I grabbed the hangers, which in those days were all wire, and I had blisters all over my hands, and all my hair in the front, my eyebrows were burnt off. So then we got this other house, this precut. And then the investigator came to us and showed us that. And then we went around all those prefabs and rewired them all after that. Because they said the houses they rewired, they found scorch marks in there. So there could've been a lot more fires. Yeah, yeah. So your name, your name just kind of came up. A lot of it was supposed to be your position. When they built the stick houses out here on the north end and right here, Harris Street, where they ended. When they started up there in up town, they started building--well up there about by Jefferson School, they started past there, building stick houses. They all went to management or up here on here, Harris. And in '58, when they sold the land, all that land was bare out there. And mostly, people who got the land--maybe they could afford it. I don't know why, but a lot of them said it was politics. But it was dentists and doctors and lawyers, but it was known--Davidson and Harrison, these streets out here--they were known as Pill and Drill Hill because of the doctors and the dentists out there. So a lot of it was by your position. A lot of it's the size of the family. And a lot of it, I think, just political, who you knew. You knew somebody in housing office. You really had it made. But your name would come up on a list, and they'd give you like three places to look at. Then you'd choose one.
Bauman: When did you find out exactly what Hanford's purpose was, that it was involved in production of--
Sather: Well, I was at work and—I don't remember now who it was. I was working in security at that time. I worked in security two different times early on. And then when they had the expansion and built what they called the Cold War reactors, they were going to have to process thousands of construction workers and support services out at North Richland, so I moved out there to North Richland and processed—Atkinson-Jones was the prime contractor, process all these people. So I was downtown with my first security job. The building's been torn down since. It was down in the region of the Federal Building next to the 703 Building that we also had at the Federal Building. I think it was my boss, Roy James, came in and said--and then people kind of didn't quite believe him at first there in the offices. And then, of course, I saw the newspapers--or at first, the local paper, The Villager. And it didn't really surprise people too much. I think after they heard--especially if you transferred around a bit—well, I know I was told I ask too many questions.
Bauman: So you worked in security a couple different times. What other sorts of jobs did you have?
Sather: Well first, when I went out there, my very first at the rec hall at Hanford, I was classified as a clerk. And then, let's see, where did I go from there? Oh, yeah. And then of course, then I was moved down to Richland for security. And then I went to 300 Area to instrument division. Then I went out to the hog and dog farm. When Battelle came and took over the Hanford laboratories--and I was in the laboratory building, I wasn't in the reactor building. That was F Reactor. They put up a big welcome sign there by the gate to F Area, and it said, welcome Baa-ttelle because they had so many sheep out there. They were testing. Well, then I asked for a transfer out of that because I started getting nauseated. And you know I was up there where they opened these—just like the steam would, like they just kind of boil these rats and stuff. They were trying to find out how much of that contamination would be in the bones. They had doctors, vets there, and everything like that. And I kept telling my supervisor, I don't think I can do this. And oh, he said, it's probably something else. Well, I was going out to the bus area, picking up the bus every morning, and it was in May, so I wasn't wearing a coat--because May can be pretty hot here--and I could see these other workers looking at my abdomen, and I think they thought it was morning sickness. But it wasn't to be for a long time. But anyway, I knew what he was thinking. And every area had a first aid station. Well, I'd go over to the first aid station. And I put off going out there, because you had to dress. You had booties and white coat and all that on. And I said, I get out in that fresh air and I'm fine, and I go back in—it was on the fourth floor. Well, after I left there, sometime after, I guess enough people complain that they change their ventilation system. But I know that's what it was, because I'm just kind of sensitive to scents anyway.
Bauman: And so what task did you have there?
Sather: Oh, well, of course they had all these precious metals, and they had gold, and they had silver, and they had alcohol. And all the supplies, everything. I even ordered dogs from the pound in Yakima. Had to be a certain size. And pigs—we had to have pigs a certain size. Just supplies. What did they call me? Buyer, yeah. But I had to keep track of all this, and they audited me on it. And because it wouldn't be past people to try to take alcohol, particularly. So all the supplies, ether, all kinds of stuff. And of course, your regular office supplies, medical supplies, all that kind of stuff. So I did that. Then I got transferred out of there. And I went out to 200 Areas to the separations building. And I was a secretary there. And then when I went out to BC Reactor, N Reactor, and research and development, all those places, I was executive secretary. I went to night school, CBC. And then I was an administrative assistant, and then I retired. I was a specialist, education training and development. Wrote training manuals and conducted training. Made overhead displays and stuff like that. So I was just kind of a Jack—Jill of all trades.
Bauman: Yes. You had a number of different positions, and yeah.
Sather: Oh, yeah. Well, they just asked me if I could do it, and when I said yes, and then I'd run home and call anybody I knew and say, how do you do this? Brush up on it and--
Bauman: Of the different positions you had, did you have one that you enjoyed the most, that you really enjoyed, or maybe one that was sort of most difficult that are challenging?
Sather: Well, I forgot the two in between. I was in employee relations, and they wanted somebody to go to labor relations who was not connected with any union member. This was during the strike. I believe it was '63. It was a three-month strike of all the craftspeople. Those were trying times. And of course, nowadays with all the technology, it's hard to believe how they operated back then. But the union would get a proposal, type it up, take it to the employee relations people, and they'd study it, and send back an answer, and back and forth, and back and forth. So I really for the first time in a long time was working overtime, because they would be meeting long into the night sometimes. And I guess I was one of the few women who wasn't connected. I know all my friends, most of them were married to craftspeople, and my husband was a manager of maintenance at that time. So anyway, I did that until end of that—that was a temporary assignment. But then that's I guess how I got into the education training and development, because that was part of employee relations. So I was pretty flexible. And also in my studies, I learned that when you work long time a place, they're not going to get--they said three years. They're not going to get much more out of you, and you're not going to get much more out of them. In other words, you're going to get complacent. You're not going to grow that much. And along as far as any place was at PUREX. That was the newest separations plant. I was there six years. And I left there. The boss got mad at me, because he was on vacation when I took the job out at the BC Reactor. But they had a little thing going on. When jobs would come up, they didn't want you to move. They'd never tell you about it. There was no posting. Now posting is required, and we finally got posting to be required. Well, the man who took his place, when he was on vacation, he came back from a staff meeting. And when he came back from a staff meeting, he had me type up his meeting minutes for him so he could turn them over to my boss when he came back after two weeks. Well, I said, I'd like to interview for this job. It was a one rate hire because—that was another thing; your job was tied in with your manager's rate. You couldn't advance if you stayed with the same person unless he advanced. And there was a time or two when my boss advanced and I advanced with him, but normally, you're just stuck. It doesn't have anything to do with your job description or anything. Now, for the exempt people, it was different. They had a bunch of requirements, and it was all rated, and so many points signed, this and that and the other, and you'd be at level 12. Almost like the federal ratings. You'd be at level 12, or 15, or whatever. But the people working for them, the non-exempt people working for them, no. So anyway, I went out there and interviewed, and he said, well, you've got the job. And I said, well don't you have other people interviewing? He said yes, but he said I'm giving you the job. And I said, well. Then he said, I'm going to take you down the hall and introduce you to the rest of my staff. I said--of course I had been training managers for a long time--I said, you can't do that. You're going to have to go ahead and either interview or not interview or something. You can't just all of a sudden drop this on people. Oh, he said, thank you. He's the boss I had to change a lot of his letters. He was Scotch, and he had this temper, and he'd fire off letters and everything, and I'd put them in the bottom drawer. Sometimes I wouldn't even transcribe them. They'd lay there for a while. Sometimes he'd come in and say, what about that letter to that dude over in such and such an area? I said, oh, I've been so busy. I just haven't got around to it yet. Oh, he said, thank you, thank you. Because usually, he'd fire it off to somebody that he shouldn't have, somebody at a higher level. He was so funny. But anyway, I got that job. And then after that, after the civil rights legislation and all this equality and all this business, these federal jobs had to put quarterly reports into some committee in Washington, DC about what they were doing to even the playing field. And here they were saying they were posting jobs and they were doing this and that and the other. And just imagine these people typing up these reports and sending them in and everything, knowing a lot of it was a big lie. So finally, they revolted. And they were so scared they were going to join the union that they would do most anything to keep the white collar people out of the union. So finally, they changed it and started posting the jobs. But before that, it was just quite a bit about who you knew, or who you happened to run into, or maybe just by the grapevine to find an opening. So they had to quit doing that. But I thought, here these people, a lot of them have Master's and PhDs. How stupid can they be? Don't they think we read what we type up? [LAUGHTER] It was so funny. It was so funny. There was enough levity from time to time to make it interesting. There were practical jokes and things like that that went on.
Bauman: Earlier, you talked about the emphasis on security. You worked on security and secrecy and you talked about the FBI having a presence. Were you all aware of that? I mean, it was a real focus, and--
Sather: We got reminded all the time. And all the war plants in the room my friend there I'm talking about in California who worked a long time for Hughes Aircraft, they had big signs up and everything about the enemy’s listening and all that kind of stuff, and pictures, and little cartoons. And yeah, you were just reminded of it in a subtle fashion all the time. But now, just like when I married, I looked up one day and there were two FBI men there standing at my desk. I think I was coming back from the lunchroom and they were waiting for me. And they start questioning me, and I said, well I never planned to change my name. Of course, that was unheard of. Back then--I mean, it's common now. But they said, well, you know there's a law. You're going to have to change it. Well, I'd already researched it. Not that I'm smarter than the FBI, but I think you should get your facts before you expose yourself. And there never was a law. It was like something borrowed, something blue. It was tradition. So I said show me the law. So then they came back again a little bit later, and said, you're going to have to change your name. I don't know what they got all excited about because my husband worked here and had clearance and everything. And I said, well, it's not the law. And they said, no, but it's our policy and it's job requirement. I said, well, when I hired in, I didn't see any such requirement on my papers. They said, well, it's there now. [LAUGHTER] So I let it go for a while, and my husband said, oh, don't hassle it. Don't worry about it. He said, I know your name's as good as my name. He said, don't hassle it. So I guess he thought he might get fired. So anyway, I changed my name, changed my badge and all. I had to fill out umpteen papers again, the personnel security questionnaire. Everybody had to fill out seven copies. You remember--you wouldn't know of trying to make seven copies on a manual typewriter, carbon paper. You had to start wearing dresses that were either navy blue or black because you'd get this carbon all over you. It was something else. So that's my closest encounter with the FBI.
Bauman: You also earlier talked about how during the war, there--bare bones. There really wasn't any entertainment, and the town wasn't necessarily especially welcoming. Did that change after the war? Did--
Sather: Yes, I think they knew what side their bread was buttered on, so to speak. They knew that in the long run, it was good for the communities. Yeah, I think so, because I know we mixed a lot more with it. And of course, they had their stores that you had to trade at. It just wasn't that many places to shop, and you couldn't just jump in the car and go to Spokane or Seattle because where were you going to get your gas stamps? When we were in the trailer, we ran the stove that took white gas. And my husband had a '39 Ford Coupe V8. So we're eating at the mess hall, I mean, we weren't really cooking. So we were putting the white gas allotment into this Ford, and it just about hopped up. Yeah. But we never got enough to go any great distance.
Bauman: Where did you go shopping locally?
Sather: Well, we could get the bus and go to Pasco. There was a lot of nice stores in Pasco at that time. They were like men's stores—weren't any department stores—men's stores, and lady's stores, and children's stories, like every little small town has. And same way with the Kennewick. Well, we went to Yakima. And actually, we didn't shop like you would imagine in your time because where you going to put it? Because we're more or less transient for quite a while. And also, they just weren't things available. Maybe they weren't rationed, but they just weren't available because the federal projects and the military had the priority. I was bumped from a train between LA and Fresno, and my brother from the first Marines came back from the Pacific. My sister—I was visiting in LA at the time, and I went to my sister’s at Fresno. And we got bumped. We were going to 'Frisco, and he was coming in at 'Frisco. Well, actually, he came into San Diego where the marine base was at Camp Pendleton. But then he got a ride some buddy up to San Francisco. And when he was overseas, he was on a Browning Automatic Rifle, BAR, and it's a two man thing. And he had promised his buddies that he, if anybody was lost, he would visit their next of kin. And he had a list of 22 names in the four plus years that he was in the first Marines that he lost that could've been him. And two of them were in San Francisco, and so that's why he ended up in San Francisco. So we picked him up, come to my place, and stayed about a month. And then he went all around the country, visited these next of kin that he'd promised.
Bauman: So overall, how would you describe your years working at Hanford?
Sather: Oh, I think it was a good thing. I think it was good for us. I learned a lot, did a lot of different type of jobs. And the climate was much better than Des Moines, Iowa, I'll tell ya. And the companies, overall, have been good to us. We were with DuPont first and General Electric and then United Nuclear. It's been very broadening, I'll say that. We met people from all over, just all over. And allowed us to raise our family and have a nice home, and a good retirement, and I would do it over again. Not at this age, but at 21, it was easy. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Is there anything else that stands out in your mind from your time working at Hanford, or anything that I haven't asked you about that you'd like to talk about it?
Sather: Well, it wasn't all as stringent as it sounds. We just kind of laughed about a lot of it. Of course, we really aren't allowed to criticize much, because it just wasn't nice to do that with the war on. I had four brothers in the service. And my dad had been in the Navy in World War I. And you just kind of, well—after Pearl Harbor, the people supported the government very, very well. Before that, when England was in the midst of it and it was back and forth about whether United States would get into it, and it was—really there was no question about it after Pearl Harbor. And so most people felt we were attacked, and they felt you had to do what you had to do. I've never supported a war since then, I guess because we weren't attacked. But I feel now, now that we've been attacked again with the 9/11—I think which took as many people as Pearl Harbor. I think Pearl Harbor was about 2,500 or something like that. That other one plane went into the Pentagon, and the Pennsylvania field I think was about 3,000. Yeah. Overall, I know there was critics, primarily over on the west side. And I know they visited over here, and they have no idea that we have an operating nuclear reactor out here on the edge of town. And it was just like my friend in California. We had some friends in California, so anti-nuclear and everything. So I looked it up, and I found out that the time that he was talking about, that there were 19 operating in California alone! Over 100 in the United States. And that was probably 25, 30 years ago. And he was so surprised to think--he just thought there might be one that blew up somewhere. But it just wasn't needed, it wasn't really producing that much. But now you stop to think they'd shut down all those like you see outside of Phoenix in these large cities. What would we do? Where would we get the oil or the gas for alternate fuel? Because the populations have grown. The industries have grown. I realize there's a lot of critics. I know they come over here expecting to see us glow in the dark. But they don't mind hooking up to it whenever they get a chance. But of course, they shut it down. And Oregon shut the one they had down in Oregon, and they stopped building the ones that they were building on the other side at Elma. So I don't think they realize how dependent we are. But the same way there's critics about the dam, and what's cheaper than hydropower? But on the other hand, you go to California or Arizona and they're paying $0.15, $0.16 per kilowatt. We're paying 6.5 for electric heating here. So they envy us in a way, I think a lot of us envy.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you for coming in today--
Sather: Well, you're welcome.
Bauman: And thank you for sharing your experiences at Hanford. I really appreciate it.
Sather: Yeah. You're a very good interviewer.
Bauman: Thank you. All right.
Northwest Public Television | Johnson_Norman
Robert Bauman: All right, is that all right?
Camera man: Yeah.
Bauman: Okay. All right, we can go ahead and get started.
Norman Johnson: Okay.
Bauman: And if we could start first by maybe having you say your name and spell your name for us?
Johnson: It's Norman Neil Johnson. J-O-H-N-S-O-N.
Bauman: Great. And my name's Robert Bauman. We're conducting this oral history interview on November 5 of 2013. And we're doing this interview on the campus of Washington University Tri-Cities. So let's start maybe by having you talk about your family, first, and what you know about when they came to the area here.
Johnson: My grandparents--I can remember my grandpa telling me--he came out here in 1910 and bought land. And then he moved back to Idaho. He was working in the sawmills in Idaho. And then he come back in 1918 and brought my grandmother and my aunt and my mother back. And they started farming in 1918.
Bauman: And his name was?
Johnson: Pete Hanson.
Bauman: Pete Hanson. Do you know why this area, why Richland? What brought him here? Just the availability of land?
Johnson: I know he had a brother that owned the farm. And they bought the farm right next to him. And then his brother died before I was born. His oldest daughter was who farmed it after I was born. I don't know why they came here. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And how old would your mother have been in 1918 when they--
Johnson: Four years old.
Bauman: Four years old. So she grew up here.
Johnson: Yeah, I was one in Lady Lourdes Hospital in Pasco in 1936. The only hospital here.
Bauman: Okay. And what about your father, then?
Johnson: I think he was from Republic, Washington. Somewhere over there, because--I was so young when he died, that I never really knew much about him. And I didn't think to ask his brothers or sisters about him.
Bauman: But did he live in the area too, you and is that how your parents met?
Johnson: Yeah, mm-hm, yep. He had an older sister that lived here, too. Their name was Perkins. There was quite a few of them.
Bauman: Mm-hm. And you were born in what year?
Johnson: 1936.
Bauman: 1936. And your family had a farm?
Johnson: Yes.
Bauman: And what sort of crops?
Johnson: All I can remember is asparagus and strawberries and alfalfa for their livestock. That's all I can remember. I don’t know, my grandpa said that the only people that made any money out their farming and amount to anything was the ones that had orchards. And asked him how come he didn't plant trees, and he said he couldn't afford to buy any. So I guess he never made a lot of money. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: And do you know about how large the farm was?
Johnson: He had 17 acres and then he farmed my mother's 10 acres, so he had 27 acres all together.
Bauman: And do you remember any other buildings on the property? A barn, storage buildings?
Johnson: Yeah, we had--there was a storage building right behind our house. It was maybe 40 feet from the rear of our house. We always called it the other house, and I think it had been actually a residence of somebody's at one time. But I don't know when.
Bauman: Okay. And do you know roughly where the farm was?
Johnson: As I recall it was about five miles from downtown Richland. And it must have been at least a mile off from the river.
Bauman: And did you have electricity on the farm?
Johnson: We got electricity just before I was born, but my cousins that live next to us they never did. They didn't get electricity. But we had it just before I was born, I guess.
Bauman: What about telephone?
Johnson: Nope. No, we didn't have any of that.
Bauman: And how about irrigation?
Johnson: We had irrigation water, yes.
Bauman: Do you know how that was--what sort of--
Johnson: It's real irrigated, is what they did. They had a concrete pipe that run at the head of the field. And it had little holes in it. And then they had cedar plugs that they put in it. And when they wanted the water rail, they took that plug out, and away it went.
Bauman: Do you remember who your nearest neighbors were?
Johnson: Well the Brewers were the closest. They was the ones that was my mother's cousin.
Bauman: So what do you remember about the area from the time you were growing up here?
Johnson: Not a whole lot. I remember a few things. I remember when they shut our water off. They shut all our irrigation water off. The government did. And so we couldn't irrigate anything, so my grandfather went to work. As I recall it was up in big Pasco for somebody--when they were building the warehouses over there. And just me and my grandmother there. And my mother working at the post office. The government brought some prisoner of war out there, and just left them. Know what they did, they had them doing something out there. I remember my grandmother was really worried about the Italians, is what they were. And that would have been in like '43 or '44. Something like that.
Bauman: Okay. So did you go to school in Richland?
Johnson: I went to the first and second grade. First grade we went all day. But the second grade, the population had grown so much that we had two shifts, and I had the afternoon shift. And that was only time I went to school in Richland, was the first and second grade.
Bauman: Okay. So was second grade like 1943, '44, or something?
Johnson: Yeah, it must have been the '43, '44 year, yeah.
Bauman: Do you remember anything about the school itself? The building or any of the teachers?
Johnson: Yeah, seemed like it was over there where Lewis and Clark is now, I think. It was the only school there. Seems to me like it was a long building on one end, as you started at--it would've been the north end--the first grades, and then as you walked farther the other away the grades went up. I don't know how far they went. It might have been high school on the other end. I don't know. But I know I had cousins that went on the other end, and they were like five and seven years older than me. And they went up in the other end of the building.
Bauman: And how did you get to school? Was there a school bus?
Johnson: Yeah, a school bus.
Bauman: Was it a fairly standard sort of the school bus? Or what would you think of the school bus now?
Johnson: Well, probably not as good school buses now, I don't imagine. No, no, nothing like that. But I don't remember what they were like.
Bauman: Okay. So you went there, you said first and second grade. And what happened then, after second grade?
Johnson: Well that was when my grandfather was building a house in his spare time over in Kennewick--500 block on Rainier. And when he got it done, that summer of '44 we moved over there. I think that we went back to the farm one time, just to look at it. And remember my grandfather telling me he wanted to buy the building, the house, and move it to Kennewick, and they wouldn't sell it to him. He was not happy about that, either. What they did with it, I don't know.
Bauman: So you were able to stay in the house into 1944?
Johnson: Yeah.
Bauman: But then you had to leave?
Johnson: Well, we did. I don't know if they were actually forced to leave at that time. But we did. When my grandfather got the house finished in Kennewick, we moved over there.
Bauman: And do you remember when the government started sort of moving in? Do you have memories from that period?
Johnson: At the time before they moved in my mother was working for the irrigation department, for Mr. Fletcher, I think he run the irrigation department. And she said they had heard something was going on-- something was going to come here, and they didn't know what. And I imagine that would have been in probably '41 or '42. And of course that job went away when they shut the water off, so she went to work for the postal department in Richland.
Bauman: Oh, okay. But you don't know if your mother or grandparents ever got a notice saying you have to leave by a certain time?
Johnson: I think did, yeah. I don't know if they ever said right out that you had to leave at a certain time. But they were condemning our property, is what they called it. They were all farms. They shut the water off, there was no reason to stay there anymore. Because it's pretty arid out there.
Bauman: Do you have any memories of the--I know you lived outside of town itself, but did you go down very often? Do you have any memories of the town itself?
Johnson: Yeah, I used to go in with my grandfather and get groceries. And he had a '36 Ford pickup, and he'd let me sit on his lap and steer. I was about five years old, I guess. I can remember him going--there was one tavern there. I can remember him going in there, and I could go in with him, but I had to sit way in the back. They had a bench back there in the back, and I sat back there and waited for him. And we'd go to get groceries at John Dam's Grocery Store. He had a partner, too, but I don't remember what his name was. That's about all I can remember about the downtown.
Bauman: Do you remember any other institutions, any other churches or anything along those lines?
Johnson: No, I don't.
Bauman: Okay. How about any community events? Do you remember any special occasion?
Johnson: The only thing I can remember is, they used to have--farmers have something called a chivaree. And I don't know if all that was when people were getting married or something of that nature, I guess. That's all I can remember about that. Wasn't too lively around here, then.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] So can you tell me a little more about your family then? And you said in 1944 then, your grandfather bought a place in Kennewick
Johnson: Yeah. There was a guy named--another Richland farmer--his last name was Murray. One of them was Brainerd and the other one was Audemar. No, Brainerd and I can't remember the other one. But I don't know if Brainerd was the son or the father. But they bought about, oh, all the way from Fourth Avenue up in Kennewick up to about what would have been Seventh Avenue right now. He bought that whole thing. And people from Richland started buying. I know there was--the Ericksons bought land there, and the Northings bought land there, the Samses bought land there. And there might have been a couple more, but there was a lot of Richland people bought five and ten acres. I know my grandpa bought five. And the bottom part of his went halfway from Rainier halfway to Vancouver—no, Olympia, through Olympia. And then John Erickson bought the land. And then just south of us the Northings bought the next whole ten acres there. Oh, there was quite a few Richland people there.
Bauman: I want to ask then, growing up you said there wasn't a whole lot going on in Richland.
Johnson: [LAUGHTER] No, not that I knew of.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Yeah, as a young child, obviously. What sorts of things did you do for fun or for entertainment? Did you go swimming in the river, or did you do hunting, fishing sorts of things?
Johnson: Well, when I was little, we get a little irrigation ditch that run through our place. We called it the lateral, come off the big ditch. And it was probably maybe a foot and a half deep. Me and my cousin used to go play in that all time. I was interested in rocks, and my grandma used to take me out there in the desert and we'd hunt for pretty rocks. And there was an awful lot of sand. I remember, when the wind would blow there you didn't have dust storms you have sandstorms. And that hurt when we were out in that. In fact, a lot of our cars got the windows pitted from the sand. I can remember big sand dunes out there. And I used to go out there with my cousins once in a while. Like I say, there wasn't a whole lot going on. I was too young to do any sports or anything. I can remember my cousin that was seven years older than me. Brewer, Max Brewer. He'd go hunting out there. And one exciting thing I remember, he was hunting with Verne McGan, I think it was. And his gun went off and hit Verne in the shoulder. That was a big, exciting thing. [LAUGHTER] It was a .22 so it didn't do a whole lot of damage. But still, pretty exciting. Oh, and I remember one thing, too. After the Navy put that base in Pasco, they had those trainers. Planes, training pilots, they were yellow, and they were double-wing--one over the top of the other. And they had two open cockpits in them, is what they were. And they used to come down so low that my dog would get up on a haystack and bark at them, they'd come in so low. And two of them crashed out there between us and Brewers’ one time. One of them crashed, and the other one tried to land in the sagebrush. And he couldn’t land one of those in the sagebrush, so. There's parts all over out there. And I heard some of the farmer used to shoot at them with shotguns. They'd come down so low they'd go underneath the telephone wires.
Bauman: Wow.
Johnson: So it's just a bunch of young guys learning to fly. But they were over there all the time.
Bauman: So did that start like in '42 or '43?
Johnson: '43 probably.
Bauman: Did you ever talk with your mom or your grandparents later about leaving, and what their perspective was on that?
Johnson: Well, they weren't real happy about it, like I said. Most of the farmers were really unhappy about it. My grandfather, he was from Norway, so he just thought that was the way things went. He went to work for some company who was building Big Pasco over there. And then in 1947, he went to work for DuPont. And I think he only worked for DuPont for about six months, then DuPont left and General Electric took over. And he thought that was great. Best job he ever had, he said. He was a teamster. He drove from central stores to 300 Area. He delivered the things that were ordered for the 300 Area from central stores.
Bauman: Do you know how long he did that?
Johnson: Until he retired. In those days, when you turn 65, you could work until the end of that month, and then you couldn't work there any longer. So he retired in '53, October of '53. He was not happy about that, either. He didn't want to retire. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Did anyone else from your family work at Hanford at all?
Johnson: Yeah. My mother's cousin's husband, Lawrence Brewer, worked out there. And let's see, who else did? Must be somebody else, but I can't remember who they are. Oh, yeah, they were neighbors, I remember some neighbors that worked out there. And I think you said you talked to one of them. Gordon Kaas, or Norman Kaas.
Bauman: Gordon Kaas.
Johnson: Yeah, he worked out there. I don't think Norman did.
Bauman: Right, Gordon did. That's right. You said your grandfather enjoyed the job working out there, right? Did it seem strange at all, working at the place where you used to have a farm?
Johnson: No, not to him. He thought General Electric was a fabulous place to work. Because he was from Norway and he'd worked in real hard jobs. Sawmill, and stuff like that. This is just driving a truck from central stores to 300 Area, and he thought it was great.
Bauman: Now have you or any of your family members had a chance to go back at some point later and see the place at all?
Johnson: Our place?
Bauman: Yeah.
Johnson: No. Well, my sister's oldest daughter got to go out there to our old farm one time. I talked to her the other day and said I'd like to go out there. And she said she’d try and get ahold of somebody. But I don't think she has. But they never lived out there. I'm the only one left alive in our family that lived out there on either one of those farms. My cousin just died, last summer. She was five years older than me. So here and I were the last ones, and it's just me now.
Bauman: And who was your cousin?
Johnson: Donna Bowder. And they lived over there up in Meadow Springs.
Bauman: Why do you think it's important for us to do this sort of thing? For us to get the stories of people who used live--
Johnson: Anything history is worth keeping, I think. We shouldn't lose our history on anything, I don't think. There should be a lot of people left, descendants of the people that came out here. I'm sure they would like to know what their grandparents did. I think it's very interesting, really.
Bauman: Were there any special memories that you have from--and I know you were very young when you moved away to Kennewick--Were there any special memories you have from the time you did live on the farm in Richland that sort of stand out to you that you haven't mentioned yet?
Johnson: Well, I can remember my cousin, the one that just died, her and I used to have to pick a row of strawberries. And then my grandma would let us go play in the irrigation ditch. And that was a big deal for me. Let's see, I was about five years old at that point.
Bauman: That was your reward?
Johnson: Yeah. [LAUGHTER] Yeah, yeah.
Bauman: I was going to ask you, did you have any certain chores or things that you had to do to help out?
Johnson: Yeah, I had a little car, a pedal car, but it was pretty hard to pedal in the sand. [LAUGHTER] And I can remember having electric trains, like that. One thing I remember about the house was the front room was real long. In those days we didn't have carpet, we had linoleum. And I had a little dog, a fox terrier, and I'd throw that ball in that front room, and he'd just chase it, and he'd just spin. And then he couldn't stop and he'd smack right into the wall. [LAUGHTER] So I had a lot of fun with that.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Yeah. I guess the dog kept doing it, so he must have been having fun too.
Johnson: Oh, he did.
Bauman: Anything else that I haven’t asked you about? Or anything else that sort of stands out, either your own memory, or maybe if you have any stories that your mother told or your grandparents told you.
Bauman: Yeah, my grandpa used to tell me stories all time. He said they used to have down in the Columbia River—of course was it was a lot swifter than it is now because the McNary Dam wasn’t there. They had what they called a boom out there. It was a big log that was long, that was out there and it would catch all the driftwood. And they'd go down there for firewood, I guess is what they’d use it for. And he said he went down one time and they were netting salmon. And he said he come back with a whole backseat full of salmon in his old car. And he said they use to catch sturgeon down there about 12 feet long. And they'd hook the line onto a team of horses and drag them out of the river. That's a big fish. 12 feet long sturgeon.
Bauman: Yeah.
Johnson: That's about all, he never said too much about anything, he just farmed, that's all he did. Never had no hobbies or anything, just farm.
Bauman: Mm-hm. So if someone was to ask you what it was like growing up, at least part of your youth in Richland, what the town was like--
Johnson: Very small. Very small. Wasn't nothing there, really. And I've had people say, tell me, well I didn't think there was a Richland before the Hanford project. And I said, sure was, because I lived there. I don't know if they believe me or not. I can remember going to town with my grandfather. And I remember when the strawberries would come on, I used to eat until I'd get sick. Things like, I remember one time--my mother used to take me to the movies on Sundays. And we'd go over to Pasco, the Liberty Theater in Pasco. There was only two theaters here, the Roxy Theater in Kennewick and the Liberty Theater in Pasco. And we went to the Liberty Theater one time--that was before the government come in--and it was on a Sunday and we come home, and there was--They were picking feathers out of ducks. And there my cousin, Max Brewer, he'd went up was hunting and he'd run into a bunch of ducks that were sitting on what little water was left in the irrigation ditch. And he shot into the bunch of them, got about 12 of them with one shot. So we were smelling pretty bad in there. Duck feathers, when they get wet, smell a little bad. [LAUGHTER] That's one of the things I remember. Kind of stands out in my memory. But I lose a lot from being that young. I forget a lot of things that happened. It was nice living on a farm. Really, when I was a kid. I don't know if I would have liked it when I got to be a teenager or not. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So have you sort of stayed in the area then, most of your life?
Johnson: Yeah, yup.
Bauman: Moved to Kennewick.
Johnson: I went to work for General Electric when I was 18. 1955. And retired from Westinghouse in '94. Worked for four different companies there while I was working.
Bauman: And so when you start working for GE, what sort of work were you doing?
Johnson: I was only--when I was 18, you couldn't really get too much. The job I was working in a printing shop in the 700 Area. And then later I got a job with the Richland Fire Department for two years. At that No. 1 station on George Washington Way. And then when the city took over in '59, I thought I'd be better off staying with General Electric than the city. So I got a job as an operator out at 100-D Area. And I worked there until they shut DR down, which is the other reactor at D Area. And they sent me to H Area, and I worked there until they shut it down. And I worked-- then they sent me to F Area. And I worked there until they shut it down. Then there was an old powerhouse in town that supplied steam to the Desert Inn and all the schools and everything. And I worked in there until the Federal Building was built, then they shut off all the steam. Then I got laid off from General Electric, and it was just awful. They were leaving then. They left, and then the only thing here that was General Electric was N Area for a while. And a company called Douglas United Nuclear come in and took over the 100 Areas. And I had been off work about three weeks, and they called me up and wanted to know if I wanted to come work for them, which I did. So I went out to B Area.
Bauman: B Area, is that what you said?
Johnson: B Area.
Bauman: Okay.
Johnson: And then I come into town and I worked in the 300 Area. And then when they shut B Area down, I put in an application--I was down low on the seniority list--so I put in an application in with Battelle. And they offered me a job in I think it was June of '67. So I quit United Nuclear to work with Battelle. And then when Battelle--Westinghouse came in in 1970. The building I was working in, and my manager was going through Westinghouse so I had a choice, I went to Westinghouse too. And I worked for them from 1970 to '94. In the 300 Area.
Bauman: Wow. Hm. So altogether almost 30 years.
Johnson: I was there 39. A little over 39 years.
Bauman: Right, right almost 40 years, right. So you worked at D Reactor, you said?
Johnson: I worked in water department.
Bauman: Oh, the water department, okay. And so what sorts of jobs or tasks did you have there?
Johnson: Well, there was a lot of jobs in pump rooms. I worked on the filter plant. And what we did, we pumped the water out of the river and up to the 183 building, which was a filter plant. And then we treated it with some stuff that I can't remember the names of. And then we filtered it and sent it down to 190 buildings, which had all the--They had eight synchronous electric pumps in there. And they'd pump the water from there through the reactor to cool the reactor. Now remember I was on just shift work with 22 operators on each shift at that point. And then there was a few on day shift to relieve people. A lot of people out there then. The department I was in had over 500 employees when I went to work. The Power Department, they'd call it. And when I retired it was about 150 of us, I think.
Bauman: Wow. I assume you needed to have security clearance of some sort?
Johnson: Yeah, I had Q clearance most of the time, yes.
Bauman: Were you ever working in jobs where you had to wear special protective equipment for the possibility of exposure or radiation?
Johnson: Yeah, the last 15 years out there I went to what they called air balance. We did in-place testing of the heat for filters that filtered the air before it was released to the atmosphere. And I got into some pretty hot things a few times. Changed the set of filters in the 324 Building one time, and it was 350R. They were doing some work in one of the cells for the German government. And they got real crapped out.
Bauman: Hm. Roughly what time period would this have been?
Johnson: That would have been in probably '86. Probably something like that.
Bauman: Oh, okay, okay. And so you have to have dosimeter? Something along those lines?
Johnson: Yeah. We had to have rings on for it. And I had two dosimeters, one in each front pocket. Had two pair of coveralls on, and shoe covers, and then boots over that. Then you had a skull cap on and a hood over that. And then you had assault mask that covered your whole face. You had two pair of gloves--you put surgical gloves on and then canner gloves on. And these were all taped to your outer pair of coveralls. And then they went around and taped everything that was showing. So there was no skin showing.
Bauman: Mm-hm. So, like, how long of a period of time could you do that work before you had to come out in terms of--
Johnson: You mean for exposure?
Bauman: Exposure, yeah.
Johnson: I never was in there where I had to come out for overexposure. They tried to keep it as low as you could get. And so it wasn't that bad. The only time that there was ever any much exposure was when we were testing some of the filters. Some of them would have hot places. Or when we were changing filters. They had the millwrights or the fitters come in and change them, and we had to be there to test them. And that was the only real hot thing I was around. One time I remember in 325 Building, we were in a hot room in the basement. And we had to take these caps off of the duct-work to inject the smoke in there. And when the guy was taking it off, it just all of a sudden, it felt like it was heavy. It fell down and this, it looked like gunpowder, went all over everything. So we spent a whole day in the whole-body counter downtown after that. So that wasn't no fun. [LAUGHTER] But nobody got anything. I didn't get anything. They just wanted to make sure that we didn't get anything. Because that stuff that come out was pretty hot, I guess.
Bauman: I imagine safety pretty strongly emphasize at Hanford, in terms of procedures?
Johnson: Oh, yeah. Especially got, towards the end that I was there, procedure compliance was the main thing. If you didn't follow procedures, some people lost their jobs because of that. And I remember one time, I usually run the machine that detected how bad the filters were leaking, and we got some new ones in. The old ones had just push buttons on them, and the new ones had toggle switches. And we were going to do a job one time, and they had only wrote a procedure for one of them. The push buttons, not the toggle switches. So we had to quit. We couldn't finish the job. Which I thought was really stupid. What difference does it make whether you push a button or flip a toggle switch? But they had to write another procedure for it. So that got kind of irritating. It was hard to get used to that. Where you used to go in there and get a job done, and after the procedure compliance came along, couldn't do that. Took three times as long to do a job.
Bauman: Obviously when you started in 1955, focus was on production, and by the time you retired, definitely the focus was on cleanup. I wonder if that shift, how you saw that, impacted your work, maybe?
Johnson: We lost a lot of work on the job that I had, the air balance job. Some of our main buildings, not just the 300. We took the 300 Area and 400 Area. And the 300 Area in 1987, I think it was, we transferred a lot of our buildings to Battelle, for some reason. I don't know what the reason was for that. And so we lost our job. Well, didn't get as much radiation exposure after that. They work-ordered me to Battelle for a while. And Battelle wanted to keep on doing that, and Westinghouse wouldn’t let them do it. But I had a chance--I could have transferred from Westinghouse to Battelle when they did that. If I had been 10 years younger, I probably would have done it. But I was up around 50 years old then. So that was the biggest change we had. And then the problem was, these buildings were scheduled to be tore down in the 300 Area. And if we would suggest that they do something, they'd say, no, we're not going to spend that kind of money on this building because we're going to tear it down in a couple years. It got kind of frustrating. I was glad to get out of there then. Things were changing, and I was too old to change with it. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: President Kennedy visited the site in '63 to, I believe, the N Reactor. Were you here? Did you happen to be on site at the day?
Johnson: I was here, but I was working graveyard, and I didn't feel like staying up that long to go see him.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] That make sense.
Johnson: [LAUGHTER Yeah.
Bauman: Were there any significant incidents, events sort of things that stand out in your mind from your years working at Hanford, that you remember?
Johnson: Well, when I worked on fire department, I was the youngest guy there. Actually I was 20 years old when I went to work on the fire department. And I used to have to ride the back of that truck. And when you'd have a fire—and we had a lot of false alarms, these kids would pull them pull-boxes all over town-- but you had to respond just like it was a real fire. And a lot of them we'd get was at the Bomber Bowl, you know, after a football game. But you'd be in bed, asleep, in the winter time. And then all of the sudden all the lights would come on and those bells will go bong, bong, like that. And you're just in a fog up out of there. And then you hit that cold air out there and it was a real shock. In fact I talked to a guy that works on the Seattle Fire Department, and I told him. He said, oh, they wouldn't let you do that no more. They don't let you ride the back of that truck. He asked me if we were tied on. I said no, we hung on pretty hard, though. You just had to, back there. But it was a good place to work. I really did like it. Before I retired it was not near as good. Because I was one of the youngest guys out there in my department. And most of the other older guys that I've worked with had either died or retired. So it wasn't the same.
Bauman: What--of the different jobs you had at Hanford, different parts of the site that you worked, was there a job that you found the most rewarding? That you enjoyed the most, or one maybe that you found the most challenging?
Johnson: The last one I had, the air balance job was. There was a lot of math in it, you had to figure out air flows, and you had take air flows. We had to test--they had open-faced hoods in there. And we had to check them--I think we checked them once a month to make sure the flow was up to standard. And I know one of the guys who was vice president out there when he retired. He used to see us, he'd stop and tell us that what you're doing is more important than any other job out here. You're keeping people safe, he said. I really appreciated that, that the vice president would notice us. But that was the best. I thought that was the most challenging job I had out there. You had to use your brain a little bit, and all that stuff.
Bauman: You started to talk about this a little bit, maybe I'll ask you to talk about it a little more. So how was Hanford as a place to work? What overall are your impressions of your almost 40 years working there?
Johnson: I thought it was really a fairly safe place to work, really. As far as the jobs I had, they were real careful about everything. I know my uncle took me through a plywood plant in Longview one time. The safety wasn't near as good there as it was on Hanford. It was easy to see that. It was a good job, really. As it went on you had to go through more things. They're always sending you to a class that didn't help you a bit, I didn't think. [LAUGHTER] But it was a good place to work.
Bauman: I teach a class on the Cold War, and the of course, a number of the students that I have in my class were born after the Cold War ended. And so have no memories at all of the Cold War. Of course you were working at Hanford-- much of time you were working at Hanford was during the Cold War. So I wonder for young people today or future generations, how would you describe working at Hanford during this period of the Cold War, explain to them what that was like?
Johnson: Well, it was-- I don't know how you would say it. It's a good place to work. They take real good care of you up there, I thought they did. The only thing I didn't like about it was shift work. I didn’t care for that. [LAUGHTER] My wife used to tell when I was coming towards the end of graveyard, she'd say well you're getting to be halfway decent to live with again. We changed shifts. We didn't work one straight shift. You work a week of swing, and a week of graveyard, and a week of days. Terrible shift. Anything would have been better than that. But I would say, if you don't mind shift work, it was great. Because I was lucky I ended up, when I went to work at Battelle I got day shift most of the time. But they were good people to work for. Pretty honest, people were out there. They all had Q Clearances, and so they had to be pretty reputable people to work there. So that was nice to work with people you trust and depend on. And it was all around a good place to work for me. I'm not sure how it is now. But I have a relatives out there now. Quite a few of them.
Bauman: Is there anything I haven't asked you about in terms of your work at Hanford? Or anything you haven't had a chance to talk about yet, but you'd like to talk about?
Johnson: I can't think of any now, I probably will when I get home. [LAUGHTER] I can't think of it now. [LAUGHTER] Some stuff comes back to me every once in a while that I don't think of all the time. There's a lot of funny things that happened out there. I remember one time the guys at my supervisor on graveyard, they'd always go dump their garbage out of their office. And it was still dark out, and he dumped it and a raccoon come out. About scared him to death, I guess [LAUGHTER] I remember one time they had to knock the reactor down when raccoons got in there where the transformers were. And he jumped from one to the other one, well it zapped him right in midair. So it knocked the reactor down. So there was a few funny things that did happen.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much for coming in today and sharing your memories, both about your childhood in Richland and also your years working at Hanford. I appreciate it.
Johnson: Okay, thank you.
Northwest Public Television | Snyder_Wayne_1
Wayne Snyder: That was always the worst thing when I worked was public speaking. I don't know how they do it. All three of my children are--they all speak about their professions. My son sings publicly and everything, but they came from a dad who isn't that much around—
Robert Bauman: Not much for public speaking?
Snyder: Oh Amos, if you stay down, it's okay.
Bauman: Okay, we good? All right, let's go ahead and get started.
Snyder: Okay.
Bauman: Let's start by just having you say your name and spell it for us.
Snyder: Okay. Wayne Snyder, W-A-Y-N-E, S-N-Y-D-E-R.
Bauman: All right, and today's date is September 4th, 2013.
Snyder: Correct.
Bauman: And we're conducting this interview in Mr. Snyder's home—
Snyder: Right.
Bauman: --in Richland. So let's start by maybe having you tell me about how you came to Hanford, how you heard about the place, when you came.
Snyder: Okay. Well, I was at University of Colorado. I graduated there in 1950 in chemistry, and GE was one of two outfits that interviewed me. They were offering a salary of $54 a week, and that beat out the government job in Rifle, Colorado doing oil shale by about $5 a week. So I accepted this, thinking I was going to the General Electric research laboratory back in Schenectady, New York, but wound up--oh, no, you're going to Hanford. We need to people out there. So I got on the—well, my parents came to my graduation; they put me on the train to Richland. And I got here in the middle of night in Kennewick, and I had only a bus ticket from Pendleton to Kennewick. GE was supposed to pick me up, but they didn't. So I was fumbling around with all my luggage, all of my worldly belongings, and looking for a motel. A lady came by and said, what are you doing? I said, well, I'm trying to get to Hanford or to Richland, if you know where that is. She said, oh yeah. She said, I'm picking up my son who is just off shift down here. Can I give you a lift up to town? So we pulled into Richland, and it was about midnight by this time. And the city lights were pretty much on, and I thought, wow. You know, it looked to me at that time kind of like Las Vegas, all lights lit up, very contemporary. Bell Furniture had its lights on on its sign. And the building I went to was the Hanford House, which was called then the Desert Inn, a structure that preceded the existing building. And it was an old army facility, and everything looked like army around here. And I went in, and I said, I would like to get a room for tonight if I could. And they said, sure. I said, first I got to tell you. I have a check for $35, if you could cash that it would help me to pay for the place. And they said, oh sure. So I spent the night, on the second floor, woke up and looked out my window. And it was the most bare—just place without any life or anything except for the big river that I could see flowing by. And I thought, oh God, if I can just earn enough money to get a car, I'll get out of here. But I'm here later, all this time. Excuse me, my voice is cracking on me. And so I was taken over to the 703 Building, which was at that time where the Federal Building is today. And it was the headquarters for all of the Hanford site General Electric company top dogs, and the AEC, as DOE was in those days. And it was a white—just white, wooden building like everything in town, looking like an army camp, and a big building though. It had a main hallway that extended, I think, five wings, and so you would go in the building, and here's the big lobby. And I was taken to a place where they would interview me again, I think. And they said, oh you're a tech grad aren't you? And that was because I was wearing a blue sport coat and a tie. And he said, oh, yeah, you're not coming to dig ditches. you're coming to be a professional. I said, well, that's good. And so they oriented me and told me where I would be working, and asked if everything was going well. I was living in a dormitory in North Richland at that time, and that was about—what it is, six miles out of town from the Federal Building. So they made sure I could get the bus and get to work and stuff like that, but told me I'd be working out at the bismuth phosphate process, the 200 East 271 Canyon. It's the building that today they are just calling the Queen Mary. Its sister building is, the 271-T. But 271 was the B Plant, and it did the batch processing of all of the irradiated fuels in the 100 Areas, dissolved them up, separated them out by this bismuth phosphate precipitation process. Refined them through pretty much a high concentration plutonium nitrate solution. And that went on off to the 330--233 B, which was over in Two West Area. And you are not interested in the rest of the process, because it just gets boring. But anyway, I got out to work. I took the bus out, which became a very, very common thing every day. Run out and catch the bus, and go 30 miles through the desert to the north and get to the 300 Area. Excuse me, the 200 East Area. And go into my little building, which was the analytical laboratories associated with the big processing canyon building. And there I did various analytical tests, you know, determining how much plutonium in the solution, what were the concentrations of the fission products, and what was left? And we started out with the initial dissolution of the batch process, and they would dissolve up in nitric acid. I don't know how many--fuel slugs, we called them in those days--they are now the fuel element. But they were about eight inches long, and about that big in diameter. And a whole batch of them would get dissolved up—you know, half a ton or something like that. And then we would measure all of the concentration of the various elements as it went through the precipitation process. And we took it through the lithium--the wait a second--hafnium fluoride. I'm getting confused here. This has been quite a few years ago--through a concentration and there the f-10 p sample went on to the Two West Area where the oxalate precipitation took place. And at that time, that was the end of the processing at Hanford. It went through a plutonium solution, plutonium nitrate, was bottled up in very safe containers and shipped to either Los Alamos, or to, I believe, Oak Ridge. And Los Alamos was able to go ahead and make metal out of it from which they fashioned to the various bomb pits. And we sort of ended there, but a few years later, as a matter of fact I worked at it, they built what's now called the Plutonium Finishing Plant. But it was at that time the 234-5 Building, and I worked there again as an analytical chemist in the analytical laboratories. And we were measuring the purity of the plutonium, the amount of extraneous materials. And unlike the bismuth phosphate process where we were worried about the radiation—the very high level gamma irradiation—over at 234-5, we were worried more about contamination from the plutonium. Plutonium gives off no radiation that penetrates anything, but if you ingest it, you've had it. And so we'd be in gloveboxes and protective clothing, and I don't think we had anything over our faces. But I remember reaching through the glovebox and refining all of the plutonium. And then I was a spectrometer. We did a spectrometric analysis of the old fashioned kind, where we burned it off, caught the rays that came off of it, and then we could read all of the barium, the cesium, the plutonium, everything in it. And that would go back to the processing, and if it was determined clean enough and everything, it would then be sent on—the metal from which it came--would be sent on to Los Alamos for processing. But very quickly after that, they built the lines, the ABC and whatever line, which went ahead and processed the metal—the plutonium metal into a shape, which was then shaped into the bomb pit that was being built at the time. And it's not thought of that Hanford ever really handled the metal or produced weapons—weapon parts, but we did for quite a few years. And that seems like a long part of my life, those three years from 1950 up until 1953, when I was kind of tired of that. And I think they were tired of me, perhaps, out at that area too. I interviewed for and got a job in radiation monitoring. And the nice thing about it, it was the first time I lived closer to town. It was--that facility was officed in the 300 Area. And it was day shift. That other time I worked shift work the whole time. This was ABCD shift. It was 24/7. The plants were operating constantly. And so I would be working day shift, then swing shift, then graveyard shift, and it's rotated, so that you were cut out of your night life for every two out of three--let me get it straight--weekends. And all my buddies that I was with in the dormitories had all--they were day shift. And they worked Monday through Friday, they would take off weekends for the mountains or for the rivers or for the fun times. And I would get to go every third long weekend. I was off from Friday morning graveyard until Wednesday afternoon swing shift, so I had what's called a long weekend which is four full days of fun and playing except, there was nobody around that I liked, that I enjoyed. There were a lot of people worked those shifts. But most of them were operators in the production plants, or were at least a part of the continuing plutonium production and not into research or other more fun things like they did in 300 Area. Well, I was able to do that for about two more years or so, and in 1955, I was interviewed and joined a group called the Graphite Group. This group was involved in studying graphite, which is the main moderator. It's that big black block in the center of the reactors which slows the neutrons down to absorption velocity, so that they get struck in the 235 and cause it to fission, or are absorbed in the 236, and ultimately through neptunium become plutonium. And the graphite was swelling badly in the reactors. It was a fairly low temperature thing in the reactor, and the power level was around 250 megawatts. I think that was the design level. They ultimately got to operating up over 1,000 megawatts, so that was a lot. But anyway back to the graphite. I would get samples made and little cylinders and get them shaped up by the machinists, and then we would irradiate them in the test holes in the reactors. I would work out at the reactors quite often. We would be putting samples in the test holes. Getting them out, putting them in, taking them out. And then I could measure the graphite samples, as to how much dimensional change they had made. And at that time, all of them grew slightly, very slightly. But in the full size reactor, it was enough growth that the reactor was beginning to really buckle. It sunk in the middle and grew on the edges, so that the process tubes which used to go straight through the reactor began to be a shape that started higher, sunk down in the center, and went out. And they got so bowed that eight inch slugs or fuel elements would not go through them. And they would charge them in for re-irradiation—or for their first cycle, they would almost not go through those process tubes. The process tubes were aluminum. They were surrounded with water which cooled them, and the fuel elements then did its thing, fission, and made all this heat and fission products and stuff that we're still trying to get rid of here at Hanford. But that was really fun because it was day shift, it was not doing analytical chemistry. And I was working with more people who—well, all of the tech grads who did analytical work were really fun, but it got me in with the crowd, like John Fox as a matter of fact. And it just seemed more like what it was supposed to do with my life—a highbrow chemist in a research setting. But with my bachelor's degree, that wasn't the best preparation for highbrow scientific work. And I did some artwork back in those days. It was always a phase of mine. And when I got my chemistry degree, I really wished that I had gotten a bachelor's in fine arts, but I knew that would pay for nothing. [LAUGHTER] So I decided, well, to make it in fine arts, I better do something. So my wife and I got married, and we went off to Mexico where I produced a portfolio of artwork. It was a good enough to get me into one of the best commercial art centers in the country. It was called The Art Center in Los Angeles, California. And there again, I loved it. But I lasted about, oh, four months, I’ll say, into the first quarter. I was doing very well, but the people who were assigning the work would hang over you. And they would evaluate what you did, and they would find it lacking, because it wasn't as professional as they were. And so I enjoyed it though, but I thought, if I'm going to have a wife and maybe a family, I’d better earn a living. So I called my old boss at Hanford. Said, you know this art stuff isn't really working for me. Is there anything back there that I could do? He said, well, come on back, Wayne. So I joined the Graphite Group again briefly, but they let me interview around until I found something that would be a more likely career, something that would actually let me promote in career and stuff. And I joined a job—joined a group called the Programming Group, and it was the first of an outfit being put together that looked at the whole plant's operation. And they were responsible for resolving all of the programs that were going on. So we did the report writing and the final merging of all of the Plutonium Recycle Program, was the primary source of this stuff. And the plutonium recycle program went on from about--I'm going to say '58. I was married '58, so this would be '59. And as a matter of fact, again, joining with John Fox, who was one of the designers of the PRTR. And we were, at that time, probably rooming together in old Bauer Day house which were the first nongovernment owned houses in Richland. Spokane built of an outfit called the Spokane Village, which are the—oh, what would you call them, honey? The houses along George Washington Way, between it and Stevens north of the old Uptown area, those white, two-bedroom, three-bedroom buildings with white, I suppose, asbestos shingles and stuff. Anyway, where am I going from here? You can cut for a second.
Bauman: You were talking about rooming.
Snyder: Yes, thank you. Yes. And so Gerry McCormick and Fox and I got together, and we decided we'd rent one of the Bauer Day—we would rent a Richland Village house. But they would not rent to single people, so we tried the Bauer Day place. And they said, yeah, we'll rent you a house. So we got together. And I worked for Graphite Group, and Gerry was in chemistry on the separations process. And Fox was designing the PRTR. And we just hit it off well, and we were--not to brag, but we were one of the classy bachelor quarters in town. So now I'm preceding my art career, but before going there I was working in this stuff, having all this fun. We'd have--I was day shift of course—weekends off. John and Gerry were, and we'd have parties with 30 some people or so attending. And lots of people came, because we would have lots of hard liquor. And just had a good time generally. So that lasted for a while, but then when I got married, I came back, joined this programing group that I talked about earlier, got involved in the whole site more or less, and reported to a pretty high up guy, Larry McEwen. And he thought that I would be able to help publicize Hanford to the public. I would put together a small exhibition center, a room that showed the process in its entirety, and add some examples of fuel elements and various solvent extraction columns and things like that. And that was really fun, and I enjoyed it. And reported to Larry, and this was right reporting to Herb Parker who of course became the head of all the laboratories. But, another kid, Art Scott, and I were asked to help him write his annual talk, and so we met with Herb which was quite high level thing for us. And we scraped and bowed and did the appropriate things and came together with a script that he could use for the big annual meeting.
And he would go through it, and he would laugh. And he would say, we don't say things like, further on in the evening we will get into. He said, that would kill the talk right there. People are bored and no way would they like to hear, longer on at some time, while they still sat there. But any way, Art and I did okay. And he then joined an outfit called measurements, which was all new in those times. It was a group assigned to measure the progress of the company. How well were they doing? Were they meeting program requirements? And he did that. And I joined--left the Programming Group. And my boss there Kelly Wood said, Wayne, you're going nowhere. He said, you're going to have to do something else if you expect to have a career. And at that time, an offer came up from the technical information crowd. Chris Stevens was manager of a technical library, and they did this work called reviewing reports for declassification. And so it sounded pretty good, and it was more permanent. And so I joined that group, which was much more of a service job again. So I discovered my real career was in service work; it was not in science and engineering and research and that kind of stuff. And so I got over, and I joined Chris Stevenson, and this is a group of about 35 people in the Technical Information Group, most of which processed all of the technical reports that were created at Hanford. We had the technical library, which provided all of the technical information from worldwide scientists and engineers would need. And I reviewed these new technical reports for the appropriate classification: could they go out unclassified, or should they be confidential, or should they be secret? And everything at Hanford was born secret. Unlike the Department of Defense, which wrote stuff and then decided whether it was sensitive, here stuff was sensitive, period, before it was reviewed and allowed to be unclassified. So I would review all of these reports, as boring as they were, and identify things would have to be deleted in order for them to be unclassified. And most of them were high technical reports. They were not about the production programs. They were not about how much plutonium was produced and things like that. It was about the Plutonium Recycle Program; it was about advanced research in materials; it was about lots of interesting things. And so I sort of acquired a knowledge of things that were going on around the whole site, mainly research.
Bauman: About what time frame was this that you were doing this?
Snyder: Time frame? This would be 19--this was about 1980, I think, when I interviewed with Chris Stevenson and was hired into this Technical Information Group. And that was my career then. I had worked at Hanford for seven years before going to Art Center, and I worked for them for a couple more years, from 1950 and joined the group in 1960, the Programming Group. And so this would have been '63, I think, was when I joined Technical Information Group. Am I off on dates here badly? I hope not. Anyway. It was kind of boring, but I was the classification officer, did all this reviewing, and gained some awareness of how important the information was that supported a technical outfit like Hanford was, partly research and a lot of production stuff. And progressed in that far enough to where when Chris Stevenson resigned, other than just being a reviewer of reports or classification, I became a candidate for running the whole thing. So I became manager of Technical Information section in 1963. And then Battelle Memorial Institute came in and got the contract to run the research parts of Hanford, and the work I was in joined Battelle. And that was, I think, 1965. Things changed a little bit with Battelle. It was a more behavioral kind of a company. GE had been very strict, very much old style corporation, very line management, very much more like normal business. And Battelle came in, and they were used to doing contract research. They would have people come in and say, we have this problem in our material studies for zirconium or something, could you help us solve this problem? So Battelle was used to doing the same kind of research as the Hanford laboratories, but on a much broader scale; more kinds of technology were looked at. And it was a good outfit to work for, and as a matter of fact, I retired from them in 1990. And I had progressed in the technical information work enough that I was really enjoying my job as manager of that outfit. There were about 40 staff members, I'd say, who reported to me, primarily women, but a few professional guys in the technical information work. That I—well, I enjoyed the women too, but the guys, at that time--I shouldn't say this--but were more important than the women, so you tended to associate with guys instead of women in the technical side. And very soon after that, probably ten years, women really came to the front of course in science, and they became bosses around here. But my work had primarily been in a more traditional work through my early career, and through a whole different kind of work as a manager of technical information, being responsible to provide all of the current ongoing world information in science and technology to the Hanford scientists and engineers for their needs in conducting their programs. So that was a very satisfying thing to do, and it acquainted me even further with all of the kinds of things that were going on at Hanford, but without being responsible for making the reactors operate or making the research programs work and things like that. So that a good career. And like I said, I was married in '58, went off to Los Angeles--Mexico and Los Angeles--and then came back and spent the rest of my life, pretty much, in a technical information career. And it's been good.
Bauman: I would go back a little bit. You say when you said you first arrived, you lived in the dorm?
Snyder: Yes. At that time--
Bauman: Could you talk about that a little bit? Where was the dorm? What was the dorm like?
Snyder: Sure. Initially, the City of Richland of course was all government owned. DuPont had had set up, and followed by General Electric company, setting up dorms for single women who were working onsite, and dormitories for single men. And the dorms for men were called M1, M2, M3, M4, whatever. And the women's dorms were called W. What W to do with it? And I was in M9 for a short time. And the company decided set up this dormitory for the single tech grads, and they didn't have an empty men's dorm so they set aside one of the women's dorms, W21. It was built on what would be the parking lot of Albertson's grocery store right now, down on Lee and Jadwin. And that was where I met Fox and McCormick and all these other guys that I still see occasionally today. But it was a whole different style. It was amazing. How could guys be shunted off into a supervised dormitory, practically a continuation of your freshman year in college? We had a house mother even, who made sure we were behaving, not having women into our rooms, and things like that. [LAUGHTER] And today kids would just have a—they would up-rise against this kind of thing. But all of us were pretty pliable. And we were still earning a living. I did get above $52 a week, finally. But still not earning great bucks at that time. So the dormitories, they were $11.50 a month, and the beds were made daily by maids that came in and helped clean up our rooms a little bit. So it was--
Bauman: How long did you live in the dorms?
Snyder: I lived in the dorm for two years. And then that's when I joined the group in Bauer Day house, and became friends with—you know. It's amazing how many people who started then are still alive and still at Richland. And even today we'll get together with maybe 15 guys who were part of dorm W21, and three of which, we're really still close friends. And so--
Bauman: I wanted to ask you about, what was it like living in Richland during the 1950s? What was Richland like as a community?
Snyder: Okay. It was--the government township made people feel very irresponsible about—they would rent a house, but the government owned it. So you have--you just paid your rent, $30 a month or whatever and got the comfort of having all of your fuel delivered weekly. And I think you did pay for groceries and things, but the town had a little bit of a government town—a company town situation. And people were good—the higher level--it was supposed to be a community that was totally non-status. Workers, and top dog managers, and presidents would all live in mixed up neighborhoods. You might live next door to a plumber, and there might be an electrical engineer in the next one. But that never worked, and the highbrow executives of the site did get all the houses along the river, which was called pill and skill drill hill, which was the doctors, the dentists, and the executives. And the rest of the population got nice houses, and no problem with it. But again, they're all government owned, and everybody rented them. But came 1958, this government town was sold to the occupants. The government got out of being responsible for any landlord responsibilities or any government--any town operation. And it—my dog is barking, you hear [LAUGHTER]--anyway, it changed. People really owned their own homes. And property was opened up where you could buy property and build your own house. So instead of all this very much alike, six or seven different kinds of houses were built, a large number of them, you now owned them, so you took care of them. But new property was available so that you could build your own house. And that all happened in 1958. The town got a mayor. Fox's first predecessor was a lady named—I can't remember. It was more of a—there was a city council. The city council worked with the General Electric Company and the AEC people to start running our own city. And then in '58 when it was all sold, they literally became the honest government for the town. And they had to set up company-owned, company-operated—I mean privately owned, city-owned fire departments, police stations, and all that kind of thing. By that time, private industry had come in and built the large chain grocery stores like Safeway, and Albertson's, and all those. And the health business had been all company owned, but the Kadlec Medical Center was set up, and it was private again. You went to doctors who were your own. The initial facilities were very primitive. They were just like government military operations. The hospital where all my children were born was just an old clapboard building that could have been any army fort in the country. But it turned private, and it started building on an enterprise basis more so. I bought one of the lots a little bit north of town, and by that time, I had three children in the Bauer Day house. But we built a larger home up on--a block off from the river but--up on Enterprise, which still exists. And the home we built, we had an architect, and we contracted it out. So it was very much a private-type operation. It was not a development house or something. And we lived in that house until two years ago, until 2000—was that it? No, 2011. We had built our house, and we had lived in it then until, like I said, 2011. So it just became a regular community, a regular life. The whole country's looking at Hanford. It was very accepted when it was an important part of defense. We were building weapons as fast as we could to keep up with Russia. The whole Cold War lasted that long period of time, so it was very solid employment. But it was not looked at negatively like today. Today, Hanford being the biggest waste dump in the world is not thought of really highly by a lot of environmentalists and other people like that. [LAUGHTER] It's slowly being realized, but up until that time, it was very patriotic. People thought, yay, we've won the war. We'll continue to be safe; we'll have the biggest arsenal in the world, be able to maintain our security and safety. And then when that was no longer that important, and they shut down the Hanford plutonium operation, the taking care of all the waste products that had been created, stored in the big tanks, stored in crypts and things like that, became a negative to the environmentalists. And so then Hanford site is still accepted and known to be important, but didn't enjoy that win-the-war patriotism, everyone thought highly of you, type situation.
Bauman: I wonder about, especially during those early years in the 1950s, any community events that stand out, that you remember?
Snyder: Oh, yeah. There was no real social facility in the town. There was the VFW, the Veteran Foreign's where they had a bar and a dance place. The city itself provided a lot of recreation in the way of athletic courts, tennis courts, swimming pool, and that. But pretty much, you made up your own entertainment. And things were formed like the Dormitory Club, and they would go on hikes at least two to three times a month during the summer. And the Alpine Club would go on climbs. And the athletic events, the local softball teams and things like that went on. But pretty much you made--you used those facilities, but you were responsible yourself to. If you wanted to have a party, you had it in your home. You didn't have a party in some commercial facility. There were no real bars or things like that. There's one place I remember though. When the government sold off the town, and the facilities were no longer needed, people may remember what was called the Mart. And it was like the dining halls out in the Areas. It was a big facility that serve meals to the people who worked in town or people who were off shift and need to go eat. And so it was a huge cafeteria where food was served in great quantities at low price, but when the place sold off, that became pretty passé. You know, people were no longer interested in living like a company town. You're more interested in having clubs built and things like that. And so early on, this Mart building, which was an eating hall mostly, had in the back end of it a little bar with a guy whose name I forget, played a Lowrey organ. And those were the most popular thing in the world with Carmen Miranda and other such names who played that. So we would go down there and dance, or we would go there and have drinks and stuff. And the VFW was popular. And there were other places that got built ultimately. The—what was the Red Robin for a while was earlier on a V-named guy. Anyway, it was a regular commercial eating place. There were places to dance, and there were—something like that. So the early town was pretty much, do it on your—do-it-yourself with your own friends. You didn't get to do anything. A big thing though was the Richland Players, a community acting group, was initiated. And the Richland Light Opera Company, who put on pretty much Broadway musicals, came about. And they did really good work. And Richland Players—I can't recall the names of the plays—but some of the musicals that went on with Richland Light Opera were like Annie Get Your Gun, and Show Boat, the ongoing things. They still produce good plays and good musicals. So that was kind of a way to entertain yourself, and would we spent a lot of time supporting groups like that.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you also about things like Atomic Frontier Days or any things like--
Snyder: Oh, okay. When I first came here the Atomic Frontier Days was an annual celebration of the town, very much like any small Western town. And there was a parade, and there is a Miss Frontiers Day elected. And there was the beard growing thing, who could grow the biggest beard. And a little later on, it turned into the Water Follies, which was the whole Tri-Cities, and that was the beginning of the very big scale hydroplane racing, the Unlimiteds. And they raced on the Columbia right out of Kennewick. And so the Frontier Days folded totally, and Tri-City Days, or whatever it's called now, came into being, which is a much more lavish production, much more important.
Bauman: I know President Kennedy visited the Hanford site in 1963.
Snyder: Right.
Bauman: I wondered if you were onsite at the time, if you have any memories of his visit?
Snyder: Yeah, he came out to inaugurate the N Reactor. It was the first reactor that was not like the old original reactors that didn't produce any power or anything. The N Reactor both produced plutonium, but it also took the heat off the reactor operations with a big turbine and made electricity. And Kennedy came out—that was a pretty important thing nationwide, at least in the nuclear industry—and told people how great they had done and how important it was. And I didn't go out to it, but many of my friends did. And Kennedy was--everybody really liked President Kennedy—anyway, Democrats did. And I was a Democrat, so that made it one for one. And it was just a big deal. Earlier than that, other Presidents had done things out here, like—oh, the McNary Dam when it was built. I think it was President Eisenhower, may not--might have been a little later that--came out and dedicated that facility. And then even after that, we had President Nixon come and visit. And he landed in his helicopter in the new Battelle buildings, the Battelle research area, which was quite glamorous and very beautiful compared to the old facilities, and gave us a good spiel. And this was while he was still somewhat in vogue, you know, before the Cooks bit and Watergate and things like that. [LAUGHTER] And we all loved him, and we waved him off. And we were glad that he dipped his wings to show that he approved of the place. But so the site later on--and even early on with like the McNary Dam and things--had some national popularity, or some popular awareness at least. A lot of people really never did know of Hanford, and may still not, but at least it's a well--a better-known facility. And its purpose is, I hope, better understood by the public, creating an atomic bomb. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Are there any--were there any incidents, events, things that happened that--during the years working a Hanford that really sort of stand out in your memory?
Snyder: It doesn't pop into mind. That's not a good statement is it? [LAUGHTER] But it was pretty much an even-keel life for me. It just flowed nicely. You worked hard, you earned money. But you were not--you didn't become a national figure, and that was okay. It's just—it gave a whole bunch of us--I think the '50s were considered to be the best generation’s support that ever happened. It was a good time, and excuse me, a good time to live. I'm getting cracked up.
Bauman: I wonder what you consider, like, the most challenging aspects of working Hanford, and maybe the most rewarding aspects of working there.
Snyder: Of course rewarding was earning a living. A satisfaction in what you did, your coworkers, the local community—that was a big plus. No single event that stands out, like I won a Nobel prize or anything like that. [LAUGHTER] But very good, and so that was a very plus thing that stands out. Negative, other than some of the change of the environment, the Cold War ended, thank goodness, and our--the need for Hanford became less, so there was just some less feeling of being critical to the well-being of United States. We still feel it's very important, but not as critical as it was in early days.
Bauman: You talked a little bit earlier about the Cold War and the importance of being part of that, sense of patriotism.
Snyder: And earlier than the Cold War even. The Korean War, and there were still some wars going on, but no atomic as it was called in those days. No nuclear weapons were required.
Bauman: Right. Most of the students I teach now were born after the Cold War.
Snyder: Yeah.
Bauman: After the Cold War ended. And they have no memories of it, and know very little about it, so I guess my question would be, what would you like today's younger generation or future generations to know about working at Hanford, Richland during that period?
Snyder: I think to some degree Hanford has a negative connotation. And I guess I would like for it to be known--excuse me--Can we just cut it off for a second?
Bauman: That’s fine.
Snyder: Whoa!
Bauman: It's okay.
Snyder: I told Peg I might do this.
Bauman: Mm-hmm, it’s all right.
Snyder: I guess we can go on. I'll compose myself.
Bauman: Sure.
Snyder: Oh I was--I would like for it to be known that—I can't say it.
Bauman: Okay, it’s all right. We can skip to something else if you want. That's fine.
Snyder: I don't know. Excuse me. I have no idea why this is becoming so real.
Bauman: It's all right.
Snyder: Are you leaving, hon? Oh, aren't you going to go to the store?
Peg Snyder: Well, I can't get the car out, so we're just going to go a couple of blocks.
Bauman: Oh, my car’s in the way.
Peg: That's okay. We're going to go in a couple of hours.
Snyder: What's wrong with the car? What's wrong with the car?
Peg: They’re parked in front of the garage.
Bauman: We're parked on your driveway.
Snyder: Oh, okay.
Man one: But we can--I can move stuff if you want.
Peg: No big deal.
Snyder: Maybe—are we about wound up, do you think?
Bauman: Yes, I just had one or two items—one or two questions.
Snyder: I see. Well, I was trying to say, the acceptance of Hanford--the need for it--I would like to be known.
Bauman: One of thing I want to ask you about is, I understand you were very involved with the Richland Library.
Snyder: Not the Richland Library, no. The Technical Library at Hanford.
Bauman: Okay. That's what you were talking about in terms of the declassification.
Snyder: Yes. And the provision of technical information—books, reports, anything that provided that.
Bauman: Okay, great. All right. Anything that I haven't asked you about that you would like to talk about, that you think be important to talk about?
Snyder: No, I think I pretty well covered my relationship at Hanford. It's been a good one. And you've done a good job.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you for talking to me today and letting us come to your house--
Snyder: Oh, sure.
Bauman: --and interview you. We really appreciate it.
Snyder: You're more than welcome.
Bauman: Thanks for--
Northwest Public Television | Michell_CJ
Whenever you're ready.
Whenever we're ready, OK. All right, I guess we're good to go.
OK.
All right.
[LAUGHTER]
Robert Bauman: All right, let's start by having you say your name, and spell it for us.
CJ Mitchell: All right. CJ Mitchell. And actually there's a Junior on the end, and that's CJ, no periods. It's initials only. M-I-T-CH-E-L-L, and then of course Junior, J-R.
Bauman: All right, thank you. And my name's Robert Bauman, and today's date is October 30th of 2013.
Mitchell: It's my mom's birthday.
Bauman: Is it really?
Mitchell: Yes.
Bauman: Hey.
Mitchell: [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: And we're conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. So CJ, if we could start by just having you talk about when you first came to Hanford and what brought you here.
Mitchell: Well, I came October 3, 1947. And I was 16 years old at the time. And in the early years, in 1943, my relatives, primarily my uncles and also my father-in-law, and others from my community down in Northeast Texas came to work on the Manhattan Project. And, of course, then I came here in '47, and that's the start of the Cold War. Yeah.
Bauman: And you know how your relatives heard about Hanford?
Mitchell: Yes, and I was a young kid I guess at that time, but anyway I remember people coming to the community and talking about, and trying to identify people to come out here to Hanford. And actually they gave them a number. And when they got to Pasco, they matched up that number. And then when they got there, they found out it was another forty miles out to Hanford.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Was that DuPont, then, that people from--
Mitchell: I would think it was DuPont doing that time. I'm not sure, because I was young, I don't remember exactly what it was, yeah.
Bauman: Right. And so you arrived here, as you said, in 1947 as a 16-year-old. What were your first sort of impressions of the place?
Mitchell: Well actually it was really interesting, because when I first came--and I got here at nighttime, which most people will tell you that--but anyway, came into Pasco, and there was five of us. I had two first cousins, myself, and then two other people from my community. And we didn't actually come out here the first day. We went to East Pasco, because my relatives live there. And we slept in a little tent about maybe five--it wasn't even five feet. One uncle had a trailer on one side, the other one had a trailer on the other side with a little--I would say it's a little porch in between. And of course our tent was just out at maybe 20 feet away, out in the yard. That's where we slept at night. We visited during the day, and then crawled in there at night and slept.
Bauman: How long did you sleep there?
Mitchell: We were there for about, actually about three months. Because when I first came, I got a job working right up over the hill here, up on the trailer park, right up on North Richland right here, on the east side of George Washington Way. But they didn't have the barracks ready at that time. So we would catch a bus in the morning and ride out here until they got the barracks ready. And my first job was working in the--for every trailer they had a washhouse. There was no indoor plumbing. So all the homes, they had a washhouse, where they did the laundry and where they went to the bathroom. And so that was my job, helping complete those.
Bauman: Oh, okay. So you lived in East Pasco--
Mitchell: Just for a couple of months, and then we were able to move into the barracks when they got the barracks finished. And that experience was that—well, it was only $1.40 a week to live there. And that included daily maid service and clean linen once a week. And so that was pretty good. At the mess hall, for lunches--when we'd go to work, for our lunch we could get a lunch box for $0.50. And that included a couple sandwiches, maybe an orange, an apple. Maybe a slice of pie or something. Yeah. Interesting stuff.
Bauman: What sort of were the working hours? What sort of hours--
Mitchell: Well, actually, we worked eight to ten hours a day and then a half day on Saturday. And so I think I was making like $1.30 an hour. And I think, like $65.00 a week was big money. Because back in East Texas I could make like $25.00 or $30.00 a week. And I was working in a sawmill. A little portable sawmill. Yeah. Where they made cross ties. Interesting work.
Bauman: Now what was the town in East Texas that you--
Mitchell: It was a little place called Kildare. K-I-L-D-A-R-E. All it was there, it was maybe like four little businesses and a train station, and just a crossroad. Dirt roads, no pavements. No. Everybody walked.
Bauman: So when you came in '47, what was the racial situation here, were things segregated?
Mitchell: Well, they had discrimination. You couldn't eat there, and the bus station in Pasco. And everybody lived on the east side, and I think there was a few people lived there maybe just west of the underpath and up on 1st or 2nd Street right in there. Course I was, you know I didn't get involved because I was working. But that was what the situation was, yeah.
Bauman: Did that surprise you at all, or—the sort of segregation?
Mitchell: Not coming from East Texas. Because I grew up in a segregated world. So that wasn't a surprise to me.
Bauman: Was the workplace segregated also, when you moved up to live here as well?
Mitchell: Well, yeah, actually the crews were segregated. The labor, and mostly general labor, that's what I knew about, was general labor. But I think me being a young guy, they put me over with the plumbers. And what I was actually doing, when they put the joints together, they did sorting in those days, and you had to--they called it bell holes, where you'd have room to work around those, and put those together. That was my job, to dig those bell holes.
Bauman: Oh, okay. And so how long did you do that work?
Mitchell: Well, I did that work about three months. Because what happened--I came in October, and really, I got homesick. And if you've never been homesick, you don't know what I'm talking about. It's really--and then at the end of I think in January, I went back home. I went back to Texas for--I'd been here about three months and man, I was so homesick I went back. And then I came back in the spring of 1948. Right about the time they had the big flood. And then, after that, when I came back then, and also lived in the barracks at that time, but I helped build the ranch houses there in Richland. Yeah, built those ranch houses there. And I also worked on the 100-H reactor. Helping build the 100-H reactor at that time.
Bauman: So what brought you back in '48? Was it the opportunity for work?
Mitchell: Just the work. Knowing the work and the pay. It's just that, well, I had to get over the homesickness. I went back to the East Coast, see. Came back because I knew the work was here, and that's what I did. And then I stayed until after the big cold winter in 1949 and '50. And then in that maybe like February or March, somewhere in there, it was three of us. We pulled a single wide trailer from North Richland to San Francisco, because one of the guys had a sister living there. And then as we were going to California, pulling this trailer, we got down around Williams, California, in Northern California there, and somebody wanted to know if we wanted to stop and pick cherry blossoms. I never thought, you know—we'd never heard of a job picking cherry blossoms. And so then we didn't pick cherry blossoms. We went on into San Francisco, and we didn't get any work there right away. And one of men and myself--we went back to Texas. And then the other gentleman, he went into the military. And then that's when I got back there, in 1950. That's when my wife--my wife was my high school sweetheart. I married her, and we went to Chicago for the next 15 months. And then I came back to the Tri-Cities in 1951. And then I worked on McNary Dam. Moved out to Hermiston, Oregon and worked in construction there, and then in the spring of 1952, I came back to Pasco, worked on the blue bridge, helped that. And the construction on the irrigation canal, irrigation project coming down through the basin. That was my job when I came back in 1951. And then, after that, then I worked on, built the 100 Ks. The 100-K East and West. I worked on that, and then I worked in helping build the PUREX facility in 200-East Area. And then in the spring of 1955, I went to work for General Electric. That was in the fuel preps department in the 300 Area.
Bauman: 1955 was it?
Mitchell: 1955. And that's when I was working there, and that's when I got out of construction. And then when I got into the fuel preps area, well, they had locker rooms and showers and lunch rooms. And the work there, we had a break. I never heard of a break before. [LAUGHTER] So my job on the production line was to take two fuel elements, and put them in a basket. And they would go down in some aluminum Al-Si. And when they come out, another person would take those two and take them to what we call canning and get them canned. Take them over to get canned and then take them to the quench tanks cooling area. And I did that. Now, in the locker rooms there was a bulletin board, and on this bulletin board, that's where all the job postings were. And those were gotten by seniority. And every Monday morning was when you selected. And I noticed, nobody ever turned those jobs down. So I said, there's got to be something out there better than what I'm doing over here. And then I started thinking, well, you better get something between your ears. I'd go to college in those days. And by that time I had a wife and three children. That's when I decided, well, I better get going. So I'm embarked upon a night school program and I went to night school for 14 years. I didn't know if I'd ever get a degree or not. But I played basketball, just pick-up basketball, and one of the guys that was an engineer out there, he played some basketball. And he said one of things you can always have, math and chemistry. So I didn't know if I'd get a degree or not, so I studied math and chemistry. And through that, I was able to work my way out of that into—out as a technician, and then later on in the human resources. And I just started that program and I stayed with it. 14 years.
Bauman: So I want to go back, a little bit, to when you were talking about working fuels prep.
Mitchell: Sure.
Bauman: Did you have to wear special equipment to do the job you were doing?
Mitchell: Yeah you had to have coveralls. You had to have special coveralls, to wear that, and shoe covers. You had to wear those, yeah.
Bauman: That was to protect you from anything splashing?
Mitchell: Protect you, yeah, protection. And you had to wear of course safety goggles, you had to wear those.
Bauman: Right, right. And you said that was with GE.
Mitchell: Yeah, that was General Electric.
Bauman: General Electric.
Mitchell: Yes.
Bauman: And so how long did you work that?
Mitchell: I worked General Electric until 1964. Not that particular job, but what I did as a result of going to school, I did several jobs there. And one of the jobs that I had there was I worked as a person that drove a forklift—could unload fuel elements and help the guys put them on the truck to take to the reactors once they had gotten what we called canned. And also we had a couple little warehouses where we stored things. And we would have certain fuel elements in there, just bare uranium elements there. During that time they started what they called the big extrusion press for the fuel elements to go to the N Reactor, when they were going to build the N Reactor. So actually I hauled the first fuel elements, they were billets, to be put through an extrusion press for the N Reactor. And they did that in the 306 Building. Interesting work. And I had gone to probably 15 interviews before I even got a job, and on my 16th interview I came in on a swing shift and my boss says they would like to interview you over in the 327 Building. And of course out of courtesy, I went there. I didn't expect to get anything because that was pretty disappointing, that many times and nothing. And so once I got over there and talked to the gentleman over there and I got back to my workstation, about an hour later he came back and he said, well, you're going to have that job over there. And when I went over—the job I was working in was a bargaining unit job, a union job. And they had like three classifications. They had a C, a B, and an A. One-two-one was the ratio. And when they hired, you moved up. If they laid off, you moved down. So I was a C operator. I was caught in the sling here. So when I got the chance to go over to the 327 Building, I had to give up my seniority there. And I took a $17.00 a week pay cut, to take that job and take a chance on it. And they could've laid me off the next day. But I took that job, and really I've never looked back since. Turned out to be a great move for me.
Bauman: Yeah. And so how much longer did you work at Hanford, then? How long did you work there?
Mitchell: Well, I worked there at—in fact, when I got over into the radio metallurgical part where they do an examination on radioactive fuels, studying the whole why they had ruptured in the reactors and dissolving samples for research, things like that. And then I worked for a gentleman named Mike McCormack, who was really a legislator in this area. And he was a chemical engineer by profession. And he had designed some of the casts that they transported elements in. They had a situation where they wanted to bring in a swing shift. And they talked about that, in the meeting he says, if any of you folks are going to school or want to go to school then we don't have to go identify other people that has to come and go in shift. My hand went up. It was the only hand went up. And then the next week they decided they weren't going to have that shift. But one since my hand went up, they set up a special shift for me to go to school. That gave me a chance to make some extra time at Columbia Basin College. And I worked a swing shift, and then Mike McCormack being a chemist--I would come in early on swing shift and he would teach me, he taught chemistry with me during that time. Actually one the best jobs I've ever had was in that group, even though moving up to human resources and all that was great. But just the whole environment there was one of my special places in my career. And then when I got into human resources, that was when the civil rights movement started. Also, just prior to that, there was a job in the 325 Building doing some research. We were studying what happened out in space capsules, there were certain parts of the capsule that would freeze up. And so they developed these uranium oxide pellets to place in there so it would take care of that situation. And I was able to go over into the 325 and work one-on-one with the guy that was doing that research. So I helped do that. And the way I got that job, I had more math and chemistry than anybody in the lab that didn't have a degree at that time. And so I got selected for that. And then just by my going to school and my other community work, when the civil rights movement started, I got an opportunity to go into human resources. And then I ended up getting a degree in business. So I'm half technical, half business. So it turned out a great career for me.
Bauman: And how long did you work in human resources, then?
Mitchell: Oh, 20, 30—the last 28 years I was there, in human resource. Did a lot of hiring of those science and engineers. Orientation of new staff or putting in 401(k) programs. Did a lot of things.
Bauman: And which contractor contracted?
Mitchell: That was General Electric until Battelle came in, 1965. Battelle came in, I worked for them.
Bauman: Yeah, okay. I want to go back a little bit, first to when you initially came back in '47 as a 16-year-old, and you said you were living in a tent. What was that like? What was East Pasco like at the time?
Mitchell: There was no indoor plumbing over there. The streets were all dirt. Yeah it was pretty--it wasn't very good. It was kind of like back in East Texas. Because we just had dirt roads, we had no pavements or anything then. Did a lot of walking. And so yeah, it was like that there. Looking back.
Bauman: And then you moved to the dorms, right?
Mitchell: And then we moved out here to the dorms. And that was an experience. Because I'm 16 years old, and these guys—I never heard swearing and things like I had heard in that. I know my head was going like this all the time. Because I'm telling you, these guys, they were something else. And on Sundays, I would try to get some kind of a ride back into East Pasco where my uncle and his wife lived, and then that would get me away from that. And then there was also some other people that we knew each other from there and so we would go there too. So I'd ride over with them and come back.
Bauman: And then you mentioned you had gone back to East Texas and you and your wife got married. And then you went to Chicago.
Mitchell: Chicago for a couple of summers.
Bauman: Now, why'd you go to Chicago?
Mitchell: I had a brother had lived there. He'd been military and he lived there in Chicago. And I had stopped there during the time when I first came to Washington. And the way I got there, I knew where he was. And when we left home, I don't know, I did some things that maybe were maybe kind of silly when I was growing up. But in Texarkana, we were all getting ready to come to Washington. And I got off the train and I went--they used to have these phone booths where you could go in to have your photo taken. And so when I got back on the train, and on my way to come through Saint Louis, come into Saint Louis and that way you came around Saint Louis, Chicago Minneapolis, Saint Paul, and then around the northern part here. Well, I lost my billfold or something in there. And so my one uncle gave me money and I got off the train in Chicago, and my ticket, and I went and stayed with my brother. And stayed with him for about a month. And then I went back to Texas. I worked at a punch board factory. You know, you made punchboards. In the old bars, used to have where you'd go and punch a board, and punch on punchboards. Well, they were making punchboards, down on Michigan Avenue. Well, I got enough money to get back to Texas and maybe work a few more weeks and get some more money to come back. And so I got off the train in Chicago because I lost my billfold. And then I worked there for three or four weeks. Got enough to get back home and then came back again. And then in the summer of '48 when I was coming back to start working on the ranch house in Billings, Montana. I got off the train to get a newspaper. I looked up and the train's gone, leaving. So I ran the train down, caught the train. So just about the time I'm getting on the train I hear a guy yell, well if you can't make it, you can go home with me. I caught the back of the train. Worked my way up through all the cars. And then finally the guys on the train said, God, what's wrong with this kid, I'm sure they said that's the craziest kid I've ever seen. But anyway, because you know, my jacket was there, my coat was there with my ticket and everything. But I caught up. [LAUGHTER] But then of course I learned. But that's what happened. And then I came back, yeah. But then going to Chicago was--I played baseball. We didn't have baseball in school, but I played with the men teams back in Texas. And I loved baseball. And when we got married and went to Chicago, well then I knew there was always jobs in Chicago. Whether you liked the job or not, there's jobs there. So we went there. And we stayed there, and our oldest son was born there. And I would go out to Northwestern University out at Evanston, and try out for baseball. I was pretty good at it. I could hit and I could run. My arm, I couldn't throw very well. But I could hit and I could run. But anyway, I just thought well, maybe—you know, 19 years old, you still have it in you. And then I realized, after being there for a while and going to a lot of the games--and I saw the big name players at Comiskey Park and Wrigley Field. And they had double headers in those days. And you could see all these players. And I got to see Jackie Robinson, and Don Newcombe, and Bob Feller, and Joe DiMaggio, and Ted Williams. I got to see all these big name players which I was fascinated by. And of course then I was working for a smelters, and I had a fairly good job. But then I got to thinking, well I know where there's fresh air, and I know where the work is good. And so we came back. And she went home and stayed with her father down in East Texas for maybe like a couple of months while I got situated here, and then she came here. And then we've been here ever since. Great experience.
Bauman: And when you came back then, where did you live?
Mitchell: When I came back here, that's when I came back and I lived in East Pasco. But I worked on McNary Dam, I moved out to Hermiston where I could be six miles away. Just go down and come back. I always believed in living close to work, and so that's what I did. And then in the spring of '52, that's when I came back. Worked on the blue bridge, helped build that. Irrigation canals out here, and then--
Bauman: And did you move back to the area here, through then?
Mitchell: Yeah, I moved back to Pasco. And I lived in Pasco then until 1955. Because when I went to work for General Electric in 1955, then you could get housing in Richland. Your name would go on a list and you could get housing. And that's when it really, really took off for me. Really took off for me.
Bauman: And was housing readily available then? I mean, as an African American? Was that difficult?
Mitchell: Well if you could get GE out—you couldn't buy a house. I couldn't buy a house in Richland because I was black, you know, from real estate people. And that was as late as 1965. But back then it was the government homes, and if you worked you could get a home. And so it didn't matter. It wasn't up to them, then. It was up to General Electric then. And I rode the bus back and forth to work, $0.10 a day round trip. $0.05 a day. I could walk up to the bus stop, catch a bus, and go to work. And then in the outer area, the construction in outer area, they paid you isolation pay. They paid you $4.00 a day to go out there doing construction all the way out there. 300 Area, you didn't get anything, but way out there, and then the crafts got more. Interesting. Those days are gone forever though.
Bauman: So when you did go to buy a home then in Richland, did you experience some difficulty?
Mitchell: Oh yeah. It was tough. The guy, he just flat told me, said because you're black, we won't sell you a house. I can't take a chance on my investment. And so then of course, at that time, there was like the NAACP and other groups wanting to come in and get involved and I said no, I'll take care of it myself. I said well, my kids live here, my kids got to walk down these streets. I'll take care of it myself. And I just let it go. And then there was a gentleman by the name of Everdy Green had a real estate company. He called me up and he says well, he said I hear you're having problems getting a house, and I'll sell you anything you want. And I said yeah, I know you will, because your prices eliminate me. I said the level of your homes, what they cost, I said I'm just making a weekly salary. I can't afford one of your homes. And the interesting thing about that--and I never knew I'd be in real estate. And once I got into real estate I ended up selling Everdy Green's home. Yeah. Ended up selling the home that he owned. And he was the guy, but--it's interesting. And then, where I live now--I just live on Spring down here, right down the street here--first night I was there I picked up the phone, phone rings, some guy said, this is the Ku Klux Klan he said, and you're next. That was what I got on the phone. And so I just called and reported it. But nothing ever happened after that. But that's what happened to me.
Bauman: Right. Were there other incidents where people opposed you sort of moving in, or--
Mitchell: Well no, but I heard later on from Ron Kathren, when Ron Kathren bought his house. The one who lives on the street. It was kind of interesting. But the place where I was turned down was in Beverly Heights. Beverly Heights is where Fred Meyer is, and up on the hill, that's the area. Well later on, even years later, I went up and there's a home for sale by owner. Up there, a house. And then I knocked on the door, and when he saw I was black, he just slammed the door. He says, go over there, there's some houses over there. Point prefab area. But you know, you run into that. And then I had one person that worked with me in the laboratory. He says, I don't have to worry about that. He said I don't have to worry about this. Said I'm white, said I don't have to worry about that kind of stuff. It's just been interesting, it's just been an interesting experience, a real interesting experience. But what it is, I just let it roll off and keep moving. That's how you have to do it. Can't change things.
Bauman: A little bit earlier you mentioned civil rights movement. Were there organizations, NAACP and other organizations, here in the Tri-Cities area?
Mitchell: Yeah, there was NAACP, and there was one guy by the name of McGee. And sometime he would be kind of like a one-man walking picket. He was a real fighter, and everything like that. But I wasn't as involved as a lot of people, because I was working all the time. But I knew things was going on, and I did my share. Where I've lived I've always been involved in community. I was on a planning commission, and things like that. All that.
Bauman: In Richland?
Mitchell: Yeah, oh yeah.
Bauman: And about when was that?
Mitchell: About 1969, '70. Back in those days.
Bauman: And what did you think of that experience?
Mitchell: Yeah, it was an interesting experience. It really was. But you know, I made the motions on a planning commission to put the infrastructure into Meadow Springs area of South Richland. And I went to work the next day and out in the 300 Area was a 3760 Building which they just tore down recently, in the last few months. Was called a technical library, up in the upper area. I walked in one morning, there was a guy named Guthrie, G-U-H-T-R-I-E, named Guthrie. I don't know what his first name now was, but anyway, he was kind of a loud guy in the community. But anyway, he cornered me and he said, 'bout all the what it was going to be, paying the taxes, what it was going to cost and all that. And I said, well I don't know who you are, but my philosophy is that if you're going to have a good community, you've got to make it a good community. And it's going to be no better than the people that live in it. And that's the way I left it. And then he got on the city council for a while, and he was kind of a different guy. But pretty soon he just kind of faded away. I don't know where he is now. He was the same way--because when I was in the lab, I was in charge of employee benefits. Had some responsibilities there. And he was a little different there too, because he just wanted you to give him the money and he would buy his own ticket to get his own benefits. He wasn't interested in regular benefits like everyone else. But you get some of that. Learned a lot.
Bauman: So I know at some point you got into officiating, doing sports officiating.
Mitchell: Yeah, in 1964. Well, a little earlier than that they wanted me to get into officiating but I was going to night school; I was trying to get finished up. And there was a gentleman they said, well they had no African American people in officiating spots, you know, here. And the guy who came to me was working as a garbage pickup person in Richland. The garbage pickup person, his name was Johnny Singleton. And there was a guy in Pasco by the name of, I believe it was Jim Pruitt. Big, tall, about 6'6" African American guy. And Singleton, by him being on the garbage truck crews, like they'd pick up garbage. And they dumped it by hand then, instead of the sophisticated stuff they got now. But anyway, talked to him about somebody getting into sports. Refereeing sports. And of course my kid was already playing little league here at that time. And so he thought about me and Pruitt. And so the three of us, we started out. And of course when I got in it, because I'd been around baseball, my curve just went up. It just went like that. And I was in the Pac-8 in two-and-a-half years. I didn't even know I was that good. In the first year I worked, they picked me for the little league playoffs, but they said we don't let first year people work in that. But there was never a year when I officiated sports that I wasn't picked for some playoffs like that. And then all that got me into American Legion, then into--actually I worked pro ball before I went to that two-and-a-half years, year and a half. I had been down to Kennewick working one day, one morning, and I came home about 4:00 and the phone rang and it was a guy from the Tri-City Braves at that time. Ever hear of the Pro Ball Club?
Bauman: Yep.
Mitchell: He says get out here at 6:30, you got double header. So I go out there and I work double header. So the guy I was sitting in the room with, his name was Biddick. His name was B-I-D-D-I-C-K. I'll never forget his last name. And he was telling me about how to do it, and he said well, he says if the catcher has to reach out a little bit, he says just go ahead and call that a ball. He said, because the fans will get on you. I said well, listen I don't know who you are, I said, but what I’ve been taught is if the ball hit the strike zone any place, whenever it hits the strike zone, it's a strike. I don't care where it goes beyond that. And I said, and that's what I'll do, they may not have me back. And there was a guy by the name of Ted Sizemore. Ted Sizemore, University of Michigan. He was a catcher. He ended up as a second baseman for the Dodgers. But he was a catcher at that time. And I worked that game, and in the Tri-City Herald the next morning, Ted Sizemore says the best balls and strikes game they had ever had called, since he had been there. And then, and I know I'm jumping way ahead, but way back in 2000, when I was inducted into the NCAA Hall of Fame in Chicago, when I got up to talk and I was telling them about, I said my first game was behind a guy by the name of Ted Sizemore. And his wife happened to be in the audience.
Bauman: Really? Wow.
Mitchell: His wife was in the audience. And I didn't know it but his wife was in the audience. And that was pretty interesting.
Bauman: That’s pretty amazing.
Mitchell: But then, well it just turned to gold. I could run. I could run, I just enjoyed it. And I don't know why, later in years we call it you've got to be in the place when lightning strikes, whatever it is. You've got to be when lightning strikes, there's your opportunity. But I was working, taking a half day's vacation to work a game with Columbia Basin College. That was my second year. And the guys from the Pac-8 in those days was there watching some players. And after the game was over, one of the guys came over to the car and he says you ever thought about coming to work in the Pac-8? And I says, well I'd love to someday. He said, well what I did, he said, we watched you work the bases. Your focus never left what you were doing. We watched you work the plate. Your focus was always there. And he says, well you're really better than some of the guys we have up there. And I said, well I'd be happy to try it. What I know about it, I never been there before. But anyway, that's how I got there.
Bauman: And how many years did you do--
Mitchell: I did it for 30, I did it for 36 years in the whole Pac-8 team. And then I evaluated umpires until they went to the Pac-12. I would go from here. I wouldn't go evaluate officiants—I wouldn't travel. But I would just go to WSU, my wife and I, until they went to Pac-12. Then I thought well, it's time for somebody else to do it. And I did a lot, overall I got 21 World Series under my belt. And two Olympic. I worked Olympics in '84 and '88. And I worked the first games, when they were demonstration sports for the Olympics. I worked ball and strikes on the first game ever in [INAUDIBLE] Colorado in '78. It was turning to gold, still getting it. I was at SeaTac this past weekend for hall of fame.
Bauman: I saw that, the legion, yeah.
Mitchell: I've always been involved. And right now, the one guy that was in the Pac-10 with me, there was nobody taking care like Columbia Basin College doing that. So we incorporated it. We own that, and now run it administratively. We just own that association. I'll take care of that. But Hanford's been good. The Tri-Cities has been--I call it virgin territory. And for me, traveling around—when I did get into human resources, well I would travel to different schools for science and engineers. And I got into that just by, the guy was going to go WSU and he says they had three schedules for interviews, and they only had two. And he says, you know how to talk about the lab, come on. So I go to WSU, and they've got three schedules. Two starts at 8:30, one start at 9. Well my training was sitting in with one of the other interviewers for 30 minutes—that was my training. Then you're on your own. And of course, then I end up doing all that. And then when I was out going to different place like Purdue, Michigan, Wisconsin, Donald, Stanford, and all those places. I always picked up a local newspaper, would start to look at what the economy was kind of like. And for the last 60 years, the Tri-City has been as good as any and better than most. I had opportunities to leave, but I wouldn't leave. Good place to raise families. The schools were good. And my wife was very active in--she stayed on top of things within the school boards, and the city council, and all that stuff. She was a real tiger there. But she always did her homework. And so we just always been involved. And I always encouraged other people to get involved, but it's hard sometimes to get them to do anything. But I always taught my kids to try things. Because you can always come back to nothing. And Art Linkletter, I heard him years ago say, if you're ever going to get any place, do anything, you got to take some chances. Got to stick your neck out. I never forgot that.
Bauman: I was going to ask you, so you worked construction--
Mitchell: Sure.
Bauman: --and then fuels prep, and then eventually human resources.
Mitchell: You bet.
Bauman: Of those three sorts of different kinds of jobs you had in Hanford, was there one that was sort of more challenging than the others, and maybe one that was more rewarding?
Mitchell: They all were reward--I'll tell you, moving on to the research lab where they did examinations of the fuels and radiometallurgy, where they studied things, like what happened and why they failed and all that—that was tremendous. But the one thing that got me out to get me the exposure was human resources. And what happened there is, I went in one day and I had been doing what are called employee benefits or whatever. Administration and all that stuff. And I went and asked my manager for the job. And he said, you think you can handle that job? I said yeah, I've been doing it all the time. I said yeah, so he said okay, so he gave me a chance at it. And of course the people that was involved around it that I worked with, I didn't get any help there. But there happened to be a guy by the name of Bob Steiken, he was working in payroll—he was in payroll at a different building. And he was the guy that coached Little League baseball, and all the kids playing sports. And had a relationship with him and everything, and I'd get some information from him. I'd consult with him once in a while. And then also there was a guy by the name of Dick Dibble. And he was an attorney, and he had been a professor over on the coast. And he was an expert in group dynamics. And when they had the civil rights movement, they wanted—you would go and talk about the civil rights things and things that happen. And during that time, I would talk about my experiences. I would talk with groups about my experience and things like that. And then he was the guy they wanted, come on, and then I'd go and talk things like that. And he says, you know how to talk about this. Come on, we want to hear about your experience and all that stuff, like, talk about that. And then he taught me group dynamics. How to handle groups. For example, if when there's good information going, don't shut it off. If it wanes, redirect it. You know, he taught me group dynamics. And I watched and I learned. And I always pick people's brains. I sit and I'll listen all the time. I'd sit and I'd listen to staff meetings, whatever meeting. And then when they got ready to put in the 401(k) program--actually, I was doing employee benefits at that time. And then we'd go back to Columbus, and we got to go back to Columbus headquarters and learn about things, and we'd present and all these things. And then, the guy that was in payroll, and then we had employee benefits, and then there was industrial relations--that was all part of human resources. Well the guys in employment over there, they were in charge of us going round to the different groups in the lab and explaining these benefits, when they were going to sign up for their 401(k)s. And the guy that was in charge there was kind of a different kind of guy. He never helped me at all, he never helped me do anything. And they brought in another lady to help us out, and she was just like high school, and they taught her everything. But they never taught me anything. So now, when we're getting ready to go, we doing these seminars and these presentations and everything, well, he would do all the presentations and that. So I told my wife, I said, I know what he's going to do is later on, he's going to put me on the spot. I knew it was coming. And so what happened was, was that we went to the 200 Areas, and he made the presentation, oh, the first about 11:00, and then over the noon hour. And then we go to 200 West. He doesn't say anything to me about it. Get out group together, and he explained all that, and then he said CJ's going to do this one. I did it. I was ready. When I got done, there was two questions. Two questions, all. And on the way back, and we were about 200 Area, right where they built the Vit plant now, she looks over and she says, gosh CJ. She said, golly, you did good. And she said, there was only two questions. I didn't say anything. I just rode in back. But I knew he was going to put me on the spot. But I was ready. But I was ready. And so I always got my homework done. And that's why standing out there today, I was out there ten minutes before you. I was standing out waiting.
Bauman: I know. I was going to ask you, I'm a little worried your mic is going to get caught there. If you could put your arm on the other side there, yeah, put your arm above the cord. There we go. As long as it doesn't--
Mitchell: It's been a great, it's been a great, great, great thing. And another thing is, is that when my oldest son--when my son now that's a judge, when he got out of Washington State and he was going to law school, and he was going to pass the bar and all that. One of the guys in my office there, one of the payroll guys there, was talking about how tough it was to pass the bar and all that. And we had a guy at Battelle in contracts that never did pass the bar. And he was in contracts, and what he was telling me really, oh, what he was telling me really, he's probably never going to pass the bar and all that kind of stuff, I didn't even worry about that. And then when our oldest son went to the Air Force Academy. And he went to Air Force Academy. But my wife was on top of everything, all the time. And one of the girls that--the girl, Anne Roseberry, down at the library, you know who she is?
Bauman: Yeah, sure.
Mitchell: Well she was a classmate of my oldest son. And her dad was a liaison for the Air Force Academy. And he asked her after school one afternoon, who are some of the young boys down there who would be worthy of maybe recommended for the Academy? And Duke was one of those guys. And he did. And then Greg, my second son, he went to Naval Academy. He went to Naval Academy prep school, but he didn't like it back there and he came back. He came back, went to CBC for a couple of weeks, and came home one day and threw his books away and told his mother, he said I'm not going back. He left, and he was gone for about three weeks, and he called up one day and she say, where are you? And he said I'm at the University of Puget Sound. He'd gone over, walked down, got him a scholarship, and she said, what made you go there? And he said I looked at their schedule and I saw they were going to Hawai’i next year. So one of his friends, Cary Randall, from Richland was over there too, so he had a chance to go there. And then my third son who's a fireman in Seattle, he went to Washington State University, when he could play. He could play baseball, or football, or basketball. But that was one kid that was anti-everything. He was going tell them how to run the program when he got over there, so they just told him to get lost. [LAUGHTER] They just told him to get lost. But he's doing well in Seattle, doing well. But anyway. And then my daughter, who's a sweetheart. And then Cameron, the one that was high school--Cameron, the judge, was a high school All-American in football and baseball. He was a first team All-American in football. And he still doesn't say much. He never did. Never did say much. But one thing I learned from kids is that we create all of our--most of our problems. For example, my uncle that lived here, the first one up in Pasco there. We went over one afternoon, and we were right about Road 68. Where Road 68 is now, coming home. And Richland and Pasco was playing one of these big rival games. And they wanted to buy hamburgers on the way home. And I said we're not going to buy hamburgers, we don't have any money. All you guys want to do is eat, we don't have any money to buy hamburgers. Well I get home, and I'm probably there ten minutes. And I'm walking through the house. You guys got to get ready, we got a ball game, if you don't go, we’ll leave you here. So he went to his mother, he says, I don't understand. He says, dad says we don't have money to buy hamburgers. He said but we're going to a basketball game. He said it takes money, he'll buy us anything we want once we get there. So if he'd never said that, I'd have never heard that. But it just tells you to be careful what you say. You create a lot of your own problems. I learned that. I observed that and paid attention to that. And also, he was always on the honor roll, and I told my wife, I says, God, he's always on the honor roll. I don't see him studying, how is he doing this? I'm wondering if he's cheating. So she told him about it, she said he says no, no, I study when I go to bed at night. He said when I go to my room at night, he said, I study. And he was the same way, he was same way all the way through. And he was an academic Pac-10 guy. And well when he got out of school, Buffalo wanted him to come back and run back [INAUDIBLE]. So he wouldn't. He said, I'm not that big, so he went to law school. And he was the same way there. He would just study, study hard. All the time, he always did. And so, here he is. But it's just been a nice, it's been a different road, all different, but very good. And my youngest son, Robin, my youngest son has got potential--I think--to make more money than all of them put together. If he could get it all together. I think he's got potential to make more than all of them together. Because his mind, the way he does things, and how he can put it together. And where the others are just completely different.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you a couple more questions about your work at Hanford. First of all, did you have to—when you were working out there--did you have to have special security clearance, or--
Mitchell: Yes, you do. You have to have security clearance. Yeah, and it was very secret. All the time, secret. You just didn't talk about what you did. But you had to have security clearance all the time, yeah. Always security clearance. And also, during the early years, in the laboratory you had what they called--they had some pencils, they were the ones that could detect radiation, and that kind of thing. Very interesting work. Actually for me, very good work. Looking back at it, and how you had to go. But that break thing made me soft. I'd never heard of a break. I'll tell you, that was something else. I got so soft I couldn't--God, that was the worst, you know, physically.
Bauman: I was going to ask you also about President Kennedy came in 1963 to dedicate the N Reactor, I was asking about that.
Mitchell: Yeah, you bet. Took my whole family to that. I had some 35 millimeter slides for a long time, I think I've still got them around someplace, when he came during that time. That was a great experience, yeah.
Bauman: Do you have any specific memories of what the day was like, or--
Mitchell: Yeah, it was very hot. It was very hot, and lot of people went out and lot of people had car problems out there on that day. And what they did to get us out there, what they did--to make room, they had taken the graders and pushed back a lot of the sagebrush and stuff so we could go, a lot of people could get out there. It was a great thing. They came in by helicopter, oh, from Moses Lake. And that was really an interesting day.
Bauman: You certainly have been in the Tri-Cities a long time, and seen a lot of changes. I wonder what some of the changes you've seen.
Mitchell: The changes I've seen is in well, the racial situation has changed a lot. Of course you're never going to completely get rid of that, but it's changed a lot. Because I know there were times when you couldn't do things. They tell the stories about Kennewick. I don't know all about those things like that, but I know—with the troubles that I had. But one of the things that really was tough, my uncles that lived in East Pasco, with the relative citizens over there--before I moved to Richland, we had a group called the East Pasco Improvement Association, where we would clean up vacant lots and trash and try to get things cleaned up on our own. The streets were not paved, but my uncles, after I moved to Richland, they would go to city council and they would just get completely ignored there. And they were trying to get sewer—get sewer and pavement and things like that over there. And then, the people used to live in Pasco, as you go on the underpath, all to the right and to the left, hey lived all—especially to the right—all the way down to A Street, they lived all the way there. And then the city commercially pushed those people all the way from the railroad tracks, all the way out to right where Kurtzman Park is now. They pushed those people all the way back out there, and all the way through. They had people all the way down in there, there were people who lived in there. So they pushed them out of there and pushed them back farther out. But they went through a hard time on there, trying to get their water and sewer, and getting the streets and all that paved, and that sort of thing. And then of course, as far as the schools were concerned in Richland, my kids didn't have a lot of trouble. But--the schools were excellent--but what happened is, my wife, she always went to PTAs, she stayed involved. We got them into scouts, Little League programs, all organized stuff. And so they had a chance to participate. And we also, when I first came to Richland, you had to fill out an application and tell what religion are you. When I put down Protestant, well in about a day or day and a half, the people from Richland Baptist Church—just right down here on GW Way—my kids grew up in that church. And that's a Southern Baptist Church which say they were not racially happy to have you there. But you know what, they treated us good there. We went there, we learned a lot, a lot of things you learned there, a lot of things were different. As the kids got older, people kind of thought maybe my son wanted to marry some of their daughters or something. But anyway, I learned a lot there and I went there and everything and it turned out good. Of course, because I wanted the kids to be able to participate where they live. I didn't want to drive back to East Pasco every Sunday or something. Soon as I get out of school, I'd run there. No, I want them to participate where we are and where we live. And that turned out good in that way. And we lived down at 100 Craig Hill when we first moved to town, and then we moved to 612 Newcomer. That was right after I couldn't buy the house that I ended up at Newcomer, ended up there. And then we could walk. They hadn't had that development down where Safeway and all that is there. We used to walk down, the kids walked across that field to church right there. And so I wanted to be able to go to church and they would participate with the people they go to school with and they see every day.
Bauman: After you moved in and got your house in Richland, did you see Richland start to open up a little bit more? See more African Americans at all, or--
Mitchell: Yeah, it did open up a little bit. Especially, well see, when the government owned it—I think there was a guy named Fred Baker and Fred Clardy when I moved. But anyway, because other people moved to Richland. Mr. Wallace did, Mr. Rockamore moved there, the Burns moved there, because they got jobs. And then as things developed in long about '65, and when I bought my house in '76 down here, then the Burns bought a house, then some other people bought. The Browns, CW, and those guys, they bought homes and that. And CW and Norris Brown, in fact they were from my hometown. And their dad and my dad worked on the Texas Pacific Railroad together. And that time when we moved to Hermiston in '51, to work on McNary Dam, well that dad worked over there too. They went to middle school over there. When the middle schools came over here to play these guys, those guys just literally tore them apart. So when Mr. Brown moved back and they started working here, well they got a job for Mr. Brown so those kids could go to school over here and play basketball. And they also were in the trailer court. They lived in the trailer court, the Brown boys did. And they went to John Ball School. There was a little elementary school up here called John Ball, and that's where they went to school—elementary school. Then from there, they moved to Hermiston, played and then they come back, and then they went to Richland High, and all of that. That's how we all got back over here. We moved around where the work was. And so it turned out that they'd done well. I think we've done well, considering the opportunities. We just moved ahead. You can't change things. So you have to make the best of what it is. And that's what we tried to do.
Bauman: So overall, how was Hanford as a place to work for you?
Mitchell: Well for me, it was all right. Course, construction, you know, guys, I just do my job. I didn't get involved in talking about what the government was doing and all that kind of stuff, I didn't worry about the politics, I just did my job. And I tried to learn as much as I could learn, and I always paid attention to what's going on, what they doing, and how they're doing it and everything. And I always just paid attention, that's what I tried to do.
Bauman: Is there anything I haven't asked you about that you think would be important to talk about, that we haven't talked about yet?
Mitchell: What now, anything--
Bauman: Is there anything that I haven't asked you about yet--
Mitchell: Oh, let's see. No, no I don't think so. I think you're okay, and if you think of something you can always call me or something. Well, I've gone through all of it, and I didn't see any blood at the end. And I think people know when I walk down the street, I think people are not going to bother me. In fact, speaking of that, I coached baseball. I didn't coach the Little League, but I coached the next one, they call it Pointer League, 13, 14, all the way up through Legion, back in Legion. I coached that, and was very successful at it. And what I would do is, when I would work the games at Washington State or wherever I was, at night I'd make notes of what happened, what they did, how they did it, and in what situations they did that. And then when I coached, I had winning teams here. Turned out everybody wanted to play for me. I took them to California, and to state tournament, which they hadn't been before. And so it got so that if I wanted to go for walk, I had to go down by the river. If I'm walking down the street, screech! Mr. Mitchell, you need a ride? No, I'm fine. Pretty soon, screech, you need a ride, Mr. Mitchell? That's a good feeling, to be able to walk and people want to stop and give you a ride. That's a good feeling. So you just never know, you just do the best you can, do what you know to do, and do it right. I never felt like holding grudges, or anything like that. Don't have time. Don't have time for that. I'd get it done. The one thing, I would never make a social worker too good. The reason being is that nobody ever gave me anything—I mean anything. And for those people that can't work, they can babysit or do something for those that can work. And I know that people, if they have to, they can--and I was going to Seattle the other day, my wife and I, there was people picking apples, Saturday morning. It was cold. Sunday, they were picking apples. As long as there's work, you can go do it. I just think nobody have to give you anything. You got health and strength, you can go work. You can go do stuff. Just get out of your way and give you opportunity and make it out there and go get it. And to think about we have to bring people from Mexico in to do all of our work and harvest all our crops. You got to do it because we don't want to do it I guess. I guess Americans don't like to work in the field, do that straining of work. And the other thing is, Dr. Bauman, if we could get people to officiate sports--and I don't care what sport it is—we could solve unemployment problems. Kids keep coming. There's no downsizing. The least you're going to make in any kind of a youth sport, like AAU or middle school basketball, is about two to three times minimum wage per hour. You're going to make somewhere between 20 and 30 bucks an hour, just officiating basic sports. Just going down here at 4:00 in the afternoon on Saturdays. And it doesn't take a rocket scientist to do all of that. And it's out there. And everybody says, we don't want to do it. In the clinic, we teaching clinic, and the guy says, well, what do you think is the worst thing about it? Well, maybe I'll make a call or something that costs the game, some parents are mad at me, angry at me. I said well, just think about when you're learning to drive a car. When you first started driving a car, you weren't very good at it. But as you got better at it, you learned. Your parents let you drive it to the store, and then pretty soon on GW Way, and pretty soon you drive to Pasco and Kennewick, pretty soon the freeway, and pretty soon you get pretty good at it. Then you can go to Seattle and drive on the freeway in the city. And I said, you have to do it a step at a time. That's how you do it. So to me, there's no such thing as an excuse. My grandfather says that—on my mom's side, because I don’t know my grandfather on dad's side--he said, there's no such thing as excuse. He says, in Cunningham, killed can't, and whipped couldn't until he could. He said there's no such thing as an excuse. And I know. I kind of like that, because you can always do something. If you can't do it, like I said, you can babysit for somebody that can do something. And I get after people all the time. There was a guy at Richland, his son played basketball. Couple years ago, three years ago now. Good ball player, 6'6". And his dad was a big guy, he played pro-basketball or something. And he says, I'm kind of a guy that like to stay back. I said, what? He said, I kind of like to stay back and stay out of things. I said, well I think you ought to move up, not stay in back. I said. That's the problem. I said, get up here and see what's going--get in the middle of things, and see what's going on. That's how you get there. And I learned one thing, Dr. Bauman—if you go to someplace all the time, you don't have to say anything to anybody. But after a few times, somebody's going to stop you and talk to you and ask you a question, because they figure must interested because you came. And they going to stop and ask you a question. And I sit and I’ve observed it all the time, and I look at people and I say, well. Of course it's easy for me, maybe. But for them it's probably hard. But if you just get out and participate, you just get out and see what's going on, it can do a lot for you. It can do an awful lot for you.
Bauman: I want to thank you very much for coming here today and talking to us.
Mitchell: Oh, yeah. Yeah.
Bauman: Always good to see you.
Mitchell: Yeah, it's always good to see you.
Bauman: Thanks very much.
Mitchell: It's a great community. And the other thing about opportunity, just get out of my way, I don't expect anybody to hand me anything. Just move over, I'll get it. And I always told my kids that. And they know how to talk to people, they know how to tell you if they disagree without calling you a bunch of names—without calling you a bunch of names and throwing a fit. They can disagree. And the other thing I wanted them to learn to do was to get up in front of a microphone and say thank you. That sort of thing. Yeah. Well, I got plenty to do--
Northwest Public Television | Lewis_Doris
Robert Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And, yeah, I'm sure it will be.
Man One: Yeah, I am too.
Doris Lewis: Because I think I've forgotten more than I remember.
Man One: Me too.
Lewis: [LAUGHTER]
Miriam: So mom, I won't chime in unless you ask me to.
Lewis: Yeah.
Miriam: Okay?
Lewis: Okay.
Man One: Going here.
Bauman: Okay, we’re good to go?
Man One: Yeah.
Lewis: Well--
Bauman: All right.
Lewis: --see, you were born in--
Miriam: 1958.
Lewis: Yeah, October.
Miriam: Why don't we let them ask the questions?
Bauman: We'll go ahead and get started, yeah.
Lewis: Okay.
Bauman: So let's go ahead and get started. And first I'm going to just have say your name for us.
Lewis: Now?
Bauman: Yeah, go ahead.
Lewis: My name is Doris Lewis.
Bauman: And my name is Robert Bauman. And today is August 14, 2013. And we are conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So let's start by having you tell us about how and why you came to this area.
Lewis: Okay. I came to this--I got married in Seattle. I got engaged back in Minnesota and I came out west. And we were married in Seattle in--what was it?
Miriam: 1944.
Lewis: Yeah, 1944--December 5, 1944.
Miriam: So can I--Mom, but you came out here--you guys were waiting to get married for Dad to get kind of a good job.
Lewis: [LAUGHTER] Yeah.
Miriam: And so he got a job out here, right?
Lewis: Yes.
Miriam: When did he get the job out here?
Lewis: Well he got the job--let's see. We were married in--he got the job in '43.
Miriam: So you didn't even have your house when you moved out here. You came to Seattle, got married, and then moved into your house here?
Lewis: Yeah, we moved into a one-bedroom prefab, of which I have a picture.
Miriam: So you came out here because Dad got a job here. And that was what allowed you guys to get married. And that's when you moved here.
Lewis: Yeah. That's why I moved here, yes.
Bauman: And so what sort of job did your husband have?
Lewis: He was a photographer, a patrol photographer.
Bauman: And his name was?
Lewis: Walt--S. Walt--It's Sam Walter Lewis, but everybody knew him as Walt.
Bauman: And so he got a job working as a photographer at the Hanford site?
Lewis: Mm-hm. He was on patrol here, working on patrol. But he was a photographer.
Bauman: Oh okay, so working for the Hanford patrol? I see. Okay. What was Richland like when you came here in 1944?
Lewis: Well, Richland was still being built when I came here in 1944. And they put up prefabs to get housing up quickly. And since we were a couple, we got a one-bedroom prefab. It was on Sanford and Symons--a lot different today. And the sidewalks were that macadam. And asparagus was growing up on the sidewalks, as I remember, right across from our prefab. I have a picture here of myself sweeping off the porch--
Bauman: That's great.
Lewis: --of the prefab. You may have it.
Bauman: We'll film that later. Yeah, that's great.
Lewis: Mm-hm. So anyway, that was my first home here. And it was really darling. I bought yellow chintz with blue figures on it. And one of the women here helped me make drapes. People were very friendly. And she not only helped me, she just made the drapes. [LAUGHTER] And we used to get together and have parties. And we formed a community. It was a lot of fun.
Bauman: Mm-hm. And I'm guessing there must have been people coming here from all over the United States?
Lewis: All over, from every--the people I saw a lot of happened to be Southerners. And they were really warm and friendly.
Bauman: And you said your first house was--
Lewis: A one-bedroom prefab. And it was darling. It had a living room. And then it had a curtained off area for the kitchen and bathroom and bedroom. And it was adequate for a couple.
Bauman: And how long did you live there?
Lewis: You know, I don't remember. Not too long. So we moved into a two bedroom for a while. I've lived in every house in Richland. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So when you first came here, you talked about it being a very friendly place, very friendly community. Were there things to do, entertainment, places to shop, those sorts of things?
Lewis: Oh. They still had--big bands came here. And Hanford was still running. I went to their house, open house, where they served meals and stuff. They were still serving meals. And they served family style. The waiters came in with huge plates of food and put them on the tables, a lot of food. And they still hand entertainers come in. There were some big time bands. I don't remember now who they were, but they were notables. They were a lot of fun, too, because everybody was friendly. You danced with whoever asked you. And my husband was taking pictures. So I didn't get to--he didn't help me. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So it must have been quite a bit different than Minnesota, or Seattle.
Lewis: Oh, yeah, quite a difference, yeah.
Bauman: I've heard people talk about the heat and the dust and the winds, you know, the termination winds.
Lewis: And the place was dug up. So we'd have terrible sandstorms. And I would come home at night to my house and the couch--you know, these were prefabs. So they're not too well built. I come home to my house and my couch was covered with sand. You couldn't see the pattern on it. And then we had to sweep out. [LAUGHTER] We were young. And it didn't matter. We took everything in stride.
Bauman: Do you remember any community events or anything like that would go on in Richland at the time?
Lewis: I'm sure there were. I don't remember. I'm sure there were.
Bauman: Yeah. I understand that there was not a synagogue at the time that moved here and that you and your husband were involved in--
Lewis: Yeah, there were about 12 of us, eventually. And we got a group together. We held services every Friday night in our homes. And we formed a Jewish community. Yes. As I say, there were only 12 of us. I don't know when we built the--we built the synagogue when Jerry was--
Miriam: There was the 60th anniversary recently.
Lewis: Huh?
Miriam: Recently, there was the 60th anniversary.
Lewis: Yeah.
Bauman: So sometime in the 19--early '50s.
Miriam: Yeah.
Lewis: But we opened the synagogue when Jerry was about two or three, I think. A Seattle architect, a Jewish architect, drew up the plans--didn't charge us. And we had Meyer Elkins, who was--he supervised the building. He worked for AEC. And he was in charge of our synagogue building. We hired an architect from Seattle, and I cannot remember his name. But he was a very good architect. And our original synagogue has been enlarged to twice its size. There was an addition put on that was as big as the original building. Now I don't know when that was, either--I mean the date.
Bauman: Right.
Miriam: All right, can I ask a question? Mom, how did you guys raise the money to build it?
Lewis: How did we raise the money?
Miriam: And how many more--you were 12 originally, but how did the congregation grow?
Lewis: Well, it grew. There were 12 of us that built it, the synagogue. We pledged to pay over a period of years. And the bank loaned us the money. And now what did you just ask me?
Miriam: Just--there were 12 of you to start with, but when the synagogue was built, did people start hearing of it and start coming? Sorry, I'm--
Lewis: Yeah, well I don't know. I don't know when--it took a while to build it. And once they built it, then we had regular services every Friday evening and Saturday morning. And we celebrated holidays there. The synagogue was a central point for us. That's where we held all our activities. That's where we met. And that's how we really functioned.
Bauman: And you said there were 12 initially. Do you remember any of the other individuals who were involved early on?
Lewis: Any what?
Bauman: Any of the other people who were involved early on?
Lewis: Oh yeah, well most of them are dead now.
Bauman: Sure.
Lewis: There was Meyer and Tilly Elkins. And Meyer was a--he was a builder. He was an engineer. But he did building. And he supervised the building. And I'll tell you, it was perfect. [LAUGHTER] He was very, very concerned about every detail. We have a good, solid building. And if it weren't for these dedicated people, we wouldn't have had anything. Because we pledged the money for it, which at that time seemed like a lot of money. You couldn't do it today. And I don't remember the amount, but I think it was only about $16,000. I'm not sure of that.
Miriam: So mom, who were the rest of the 12 people?
Lewis: Now that's a good question.
Miriam: The Francos.
Lewis: The Francos.
Miriam: So that's Bob and Eileen Franco. The Kahns? Were the Kahns?
Lewis: Well yeah, Herb--
Miriam: Herb and Albert--
Lewis: --took charge of the financing, took charge of the banking.
Miriam: So that's six out of the 12. Who were the--oh, the Goldsmiths. Were the Goldsmiths?
Lewis: Yeah, I don't think they were early, no. I'm trying to remember. You know, I don't remember.
Miriam: That's something my brother could probably actually give you the information on.
Lewis: Well it might be in the book.
Miriam: No, this is Kennedy.
Lewis: Oh, yeah. Yeah, I don't know what Jerry remembers. But he was, I think, about two years old when they built it.
Miriam: But we can ask Jerry. Jerry can give them the information about the rest of the 12 people. Because I'm sure he will know.
Bauman: That's fine, yeah, sure.
Lewis: Okay.
Bauman: I was going to ask you then, obviously, your children were born here?
Lewis: Who?
Bauman: Your children were born here. Is that correct?
Miriam: Yeah.
Lewis: Oh, you--Miriam was born here and Jerry was born here.
Bauman: And how was Richland as a place to raise a family? How did you experience that?
Lewis: It was a wonderful place to raise a family. Because families were very important. And we got everything for free. They needed people here. And they did everything to keep us. Because it was a population that moved in and moved out. Many of them came, looked around, and left. They wouldn't stay. [LAUGHTER] But I think it was a very nice little community. We loved it here. We made friends, and we had activities. And we were busy. And then, of course, I had a job. I was a secretary. I worked first it was still under DuPont until I think '45 when GE came in.
Bauman: And what part of the Hanford site did you work at?
Lewis: Well I worked down--I was downtown then in the Ad Building. And I worked for--I can't remember what--Overbeck was one of the fellows. I was one of the top secretaries here at that time.
Bauman: And how long did you work?
Lewis: I worked a long time. [LAUGHTER] I quit working when my son was born. And that was in '55. And I quit for six or seven years. And then I came back to work again. And I worked part time for a while. But secretaries always had jobs. They needed secretaries. And I was an experienced one. They used to say if you knew a typewriter from a washing machine, they'd hire you. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And what did you think of working at Hanford? How was your experience or your experiences working there?
Lewis: What did I think of working there?
Bauman: Yeah, how was it?
Lewis: I liked it. It was interesting work. I didn’t know--I wasn't engineering knowledgeable. I didn't really know what they were doing. But it was a big secret. And in August 1945--I think that was when the first bomb was dropped. I remember working in the Ad Building there. And all the managers, everybody was on edge, waiting to hear the outcome of the dropped first bomb. Yes.
Bauman: Is that when you first knew what was going on, what had been happening at Hanford?
Lewis: Yeah, it was all very secret. And it didn't get out. Very few people knew what they were doing. Because very few people--it was a new art, or whatever you call it--a new technical thing. And they never knew, until it went off, if it was going to work. I worked for W. P. Overbeck. I worked for Vic Hansen from DuPont. He was one of the managers, a very good man. But he was only there for about six months after I hired in.
Bauman: So when you first came for your jobs at Hanford, what did you know about the place? Were you just told it had something to do with the war effort?
Lewis: We weren't told anything. I don't remember them--we knew we were working for the government and that it was very secretive. And that's all we knew. And I wasn't educated enough to know what we were doing. Now, some people may have surely knew. But as I say, engineering was something I didn't know anything about. But I learned some things. And I helped the wheels go around.
Bauman: Yeah, did you have to get a special clearance to be able to work at Hanford?
Lewis: Yeah, I had--we wore security badges. And before I quit, I got a top security clearance, because I'd been here a long time. And I worked for some of the top fellows. G. G. Lale--I can't remember what he was, but he was assistant to the man that was in charge. I think W. E. Johnson was in charge then. I'm not sure. Things are jumbled together for me. Because I'm so old I can't remember too accurately either.
Bauman: You're doing great. [LAUGHTER] You're remembering a lot.
Lewis: [LAUGHTER] I don't know.
Bauman: So your husband working for the Hanford patrol as a photographer. How long did he work at Hanford?
Lewis: He worked here a long time. And then he finally quit and went to Oregon--Gresham, right outside of Portland, and established his own business. That was a dream of his all his life. He wanted to have a studio, photographic studio, so he bought one. But however, he didn't look closely enough at it. And he spent a year trying to build a business. But he never could accomplish one that would keep us. And I was supposed to join him in about three months, quit my job and join him. But in three months’ time we knew that he needed my financial help. So I stayed on. And we visited back and forth. And he finally quit and came down here. And he got a job here as a photographer.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you about President Kennedy's visit in 1963.
Lewis: Yeah, that was--we went out. It was a hot, hot day. It was when the Dual Purpose Reactor--it was a D Reactor--was being dedicated. And Kennedy--it was a very hot day out in the desert. And there was a big crowd--I don't know, 40,000 50,000--a lot of people. And a friend of mine and I--Bonnie Goldsmith. They were here early. And we took our kids, Philip and Jerry, but--
Miriam: Not me.
Lewis: Not you, no. And they were what, about five or six?
Miriam: No, it was 1963. They were seven or eight.
Lewis: Yeah, and they immediately ran around, got lost. We had to find them. But Kennedy spoke. He was the most impressive, the most glamorous man I think I've ever in my life seen. And he was a marvelous speaker. It was just a pleasure to sit down and look at him and listen to him. He was fantastic. And he had this magic wand that started the reactors at D Area. But this desert—I think there were 40,000, 50,000 people there. And it was a hot, hot day. And the cars were--length of cars there. I remember--when was D activated? I can't remember the date. But everybody spoke. It was a wonderful, wonderful affair. And it was so impressive that waving the wand started the reactor. So it made both electricity and the others.
Bauman: And your husband took some photos that day?
Lewis: Mm-hm. He took photos. And we have some of the photos in this book there. The information is there. My son gathered it all together. He published not very many of these. He just did--something that he wanted to do. So you may look at it, because the pictures and the information on there are much more accurate than what I'm giving you. [LAUGHTER] I don't remember a lot. Miriam might remember stuff when she started school here, too, that might be of interest. Okay?
Miriam: Well he can ask the questions, and if he wants to ask me I'm sure he will.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Well I was going to ask are there any other major events that happened while you were working at Hanford that you recall or--
Lewis: Oh, well no doubt there were a lot of major events. But I don’t—I mean, if you ask me the question, I could answer specifically. But as a whole, the work went on daily. The scientists were working on it all the time. And when they dropped the bomb in, what was it, August? Was it August?
Bauman: August, uh-huh.
Lewis: Everybody was waiting. We didn't know what they were waiting for. But they were waiting. The top fellows knew that the bomb was going to be dropped. And we did get the information, finally. It was terrible, really. It was a terrible thing to do. But they felt that they really saved lives by dropping that bomb. Because they stopped—I mean, they weren't winning, they weren't losing. It was a very iffy situation. And that, of course, stopped everything. It was terrible.
Bauman: I was going to ask you—Richland initially was a government town, federal government. At some point it became an independent--
Lewis: They sold the houses to the inhabitants.
Bauman: So were you able to buy your house at that point, then, buy a house?
Lewis: Yeah, we bought--what was the first house we bought? I think it was a B house.
Miriam: Was that the house where I was born?
Lewis: Yeah, it was a B house.
Miriam: Yeah.
Lewis: Two-bedroom house, a duplex.
Bauman: And do you remember, were people in Richland excited about the possibility to do that sort of thing, to have independent--
Lewis: Do they have what?
Bauman: Were people in Richland excited about being able to buy their own homes, be sort of independent?
Lewis: Oh, yeah. By that time they will permanently implanted here. And the job was going to go on. [COUGH] Excuse me. And they sold the houses for pittances. Especially the expensive houses were real bargains--the prefabs not so much, because they didn't cost much in the first place. But I think I was living in a B house then, a two-bedroom duplex. And I bought the whole house. And we rented out the duplex. And I lived there for a while. And then we sold it and bought a ranch house. [LAUGHTER] I've lived in, I think, every house here. I lived in a B house, in a ranch house, and in a--what else? In our house.
Miriam: I don't have the letters memorized. [LAUGHTER]
Lewis: Yeah, right.
Bauman: Is there anything that we haven't talked about yet, anything that--
Lewis: I kept upgrading myself.
Miriam: In terms of history, probably not, although you did ask about--Mom, I was just curious, because this is of course what I like to know, where did you grocery shop and stuff when you first came here?
Lewis: Well we had a Keiser's store, a grocery.
Miriam: When you first came here in '44?
Lewis: Well you know, I don't know what we had then. We had a Keiser--we had grocery stores. I think Safeway was here then.
Miriam: Oh, really?
Lewis: Yeah, right.
Miriam: Yeah, I was just curious.
Lewis: Mm-hm. I don't remember a lot. But I think there was plenty of shopping.
Miriam: Mm-hm. Were you happy with the schools you sent us to?
Lewis: Yes, I was active in the schools. And my relationships were very good. Our teachers were excellent. They were dedicated, because they came out here in the middle of nowhere. [LAUGHTER] What did you think about your teachers?
Miriam: Well I just thought--this is my impression, is that because there were so many scientists here that education was a value and that I remember that school levies, when I was growing up, because I born in 1958, the school levies always passed. Nobody considered that they shouldn't be spending public money to support education. And I always thought that was because of the heavy concentration of really highly educated people that came here.
Bauman: So what schools did you go to then?
Miriam: I went to Jefferson Elementary, Chief Joseph Junior High, and Richland High School. And my brother--Jerry went to Jason Lee to begin with. Mom, do you remember? Jerry didn't start at Jefferson.
Lewis: No, he didn't.
Miriam: Jason Lee?
Lewis: I don't remember.
Miriam: I think so. Anyhow, he started a different school and then went to Jefferson when we moved to the neighborhood where we--
Lewis: Lived.
Miriam: --Grew up. And where Mom still lives.
Bauman: And so, those elementary schools must have been pretty much new when your kids started there, or close to.
Lewis: Yeah. Jefferson was just built, I think. It wasn't very old.
Miriam: Yeah, I don't know.
Bauman: And just given the influx of population suddenly, all these young families, there had to have been a new school being opened that served the population there. Anything else you can think of that either one of you--we haven't talked about, or--?
Miriam: Well just that I think, Mom, you never thought that you would come out here and spend the rest your life here. [LAUGHTER]
Lewis: No, never. I never thought that. And it was away from my family, and from friends. However, we managed. We went back to Minnesota every summer. [LAUGHTER] Our families were there.
Miriam: But I want to come back a little bit to the synagogue. Because as a very, very tiny minority here, we families banded together to build the synagogue, it was a very, very strong community. And still, it's not as strong now in that same way, but these people were all like additional parents, or like aunts and uncles to all of us. And my mom was called Aunt Doris. My dad was called Uncle Walt. That was how we addressed the parents in those families, us as children. And that it's interesting to have this group of Jews wandering in this particular desert. [LAUGHTER] Because it really has a very, very--it's a microcosm of the whole Richland thing, where you have people coming from all over and creating a very strong, very close community, because they are away from all of the places they came from. And our Jewish community reflected that same phenomenon.
Bauman: Absolutely, yeah, right, thrown together from all these disparate areas.
Lewis: As time went on, we never intended--at first, we intended to move back to Minnesota when this job was finished. It was never finished.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] It just kept going.
Lewis: Yeah, so we stayed on. And it was our home. We loved it here. I love it here.
Bauman: That's a similar theme I get. A lot of people who I've talked to come here thinking they'll stay here for a little while and then end up staying for 40 years or 60 years or however long. [LAUGHTER]
Lewis: Yeah, right. A little while became forever.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Right, right. Well I want to thank you very much for coming in today.
Lewis: Yeah, I'm afraid I wasn't much help, because my memory's so bad. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: This was terrific.
Lewis: But it was fun. It was a wonderful experience. We loved it here. I still do.
Bauman: Well thank you again. Appreciate it.
Carol Roberts: I think I’ve talked to every organization in town about the history of this place. [LAUGHTER]
Robert Bauman: Probably.
Man One: Whenever you’re ready.
Bauman: Okay.
Man One: So, I’ll go ahead and start rolling.
Bauman: Are you ready? We’ll go ahead and get started?
Roberts: I’m ready anytime you are.
Bauman: All right, great.
Man One: We’re rolling.
Bauman: Okay. Well, let’s start by just having you say your name for us.
Roberts: Carol B. Roberts.
Bauman: Roberts, okay, great. Thank you. And my name is Robert Bauman, and today is June 30th of 2015, and we’re conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. So I wonder if we could start the interview by just asking you what brought you and your family here, and when did you come, and why did you come to Richland?
Roberts: Well, my dad worked for DuPont in Denver, Colorado. He was an electrician, and I understand he was one of the very best. So when this came up, DuPont asked my dad to come out here. Well, my mom wasn’t happy about that, but then of course—[LAUGHTER] He came—he drove out here in his own car. They gave him tires and stuff like that. Because it was wartime, and things were rationed. But he could take his own car and he had his gas coupon. And he left the day after Christmas. Well, he got a site picked out—picked out a site for our house. When it was ready, we came out here and we landed at Wallula Gap—only it was Wallula Town at that time--to change trains. And we were supposed to go all the way into Kennewick. But my dad was waiting in Wallula—he couldn’t wait for it. And it was June the 20th, 1944, that we landed here. But my dad picked us up, had cost $5 tip to the porter to get us off the train. Because we were supposed to land in Kennewick, you know. I don’t know how they ever explained how five people disappeared—[LAUGHTER]—from that train. Anyhow, he was sent out to the B Reactor first. Of course, he landed in Pasco, and Pasco didn’t know anything about it. But he finally managed. He was one of the few—well, I don’t know—people that weren’t higher up that had a Q clearance to go to all the areas. That’s how my mom and sisters and I got here. And then when my husband got home from the service, after—well, it was in October after—he was with the Occupation Forces in Czechoslovakia. And he came home October the 21st, 1944, and went to work for DuPont. And that’s how we got here.
Bauman: And, so what were your parents’ names?
Roberts: My parents’ name was Bubnar. B-U-B-N-A-R. It’s Ukrainian.
Bauman: What were your parents’ first names?
Roberts: It’s Ukrainian for drummer.
Bauman: Oh, okay.
Roberts: So, I’m always such a cut-up, I’ve decided that my name Carol Catherine Bubnar means—Catherine is pure—and Pure Song of Delight Champion.
Bauman: That’s a good name.
Roberts: Yeah.
Bauman: Sounds good.
Roberts: It’s as good as any.
Bauman: So your dad came out here in December ’43, right?
Roberts: Right.
Bauman: So there’s about six months between the time he came and you came.
Roberts: Oh, yeah.
Bauman: So was he able to write to you, and did he describe the place at all?
Roberts: Well, he came home once and told us that—I think it was probably April that he came home and told us what was going on. And he told my mom that as soon as they decided that our house was ready, that they would come in and move all of our furniture. And we, including the dog, was to move into the hotel in Boulder—we lived in Boulder—and move into the hotel. All expenses paid. So we were there three weeks when my mother got the notice to be in Denver at a certain time, have the dog crated—[LAUGHTER]—you know, all that sort of stuff. And we got on in Denver at 4:00 on—well, let’s see, it took us two and a half days. And we landed here on the 20th. So that was about 17th or 18th, that we left Denver at 4:00. Well, we weren’t allowed off the train. And the porter was very good about bringing cards, to play cards and stuff like that for us. But they only served two meals. One was between 6:00 and 8:00 in the morning, breakfast. And 4:00 to 7:00 at night for dinner. But this wouldn’t hold kids. They get hungry in between. Well, I’ve always had an idea. So I said to the porter, if you’ll let me off—because they used to sell sandwiches and stuff in the depot station there—I’d go buy some egg salad sandwiches and stuff for the kids. And he hemmed and hawed about it, and we came up with $5. And that was a lot of money back then. So he turned the other way and I slipped off out of the car, got some food for the kids. And I don’t know whether I would have that kind of bravery today. But I sure didn’t want those kids hungry. [LAUGHTER] So, anyhow, like I say, we got here, and our house was supposed to be ready. Well, when we stepped out of the car, and our feet—dust all over the place, all over our shoes—my mom started to cry. She didn’t want to come anyway. And she says, Johnny, you have brought us to a lot of places—because we lived in coal camps—he was very well, because electricians were very rare then. Anyhow, we went in, the lights weren’t on, the water wasn’t on, and so we had to spend three days in the trans court until it got ready. Well, that didn’t suit my mom either. She always wanted to go back to Walsenburg, where her mother and brother and my sister were buried. And she wanted to go back, and that’s all she talked about. Then all of the sudden one day, she said, no, I don’t want to go back to Walsenburg to be buried. I want to be buried here! And I want to be cremated. So that settled that. We didn’t have to worry about anything else. But then my dad was offered a job out in Hawai’i as an electrician after the war, getting Pearl Harbor back in shape and all that sort of thing. And he would be there for two and a half years. They would pay him, oh, a quarter of what his salary was, send my mom a quarter to live on, and the rest they would deposit so that when the two and a half years was up, he would have the money plus interest. I don’t remember, I think interest was only about 1% or something like that, which is better than what we’re getting now!
Bauman: Yeah. [LAUGHTER]
Roberts: And my mom said absolutely not. She wasn’t going to be by herself. We were all able—my sisters and I, except for my baby sister—we were all able to take care of ourselves and help mom. But no. My mom didn’t like change at all. So he just stayed here until he got sick. He had cancer of the lung. And of course, he was given benefits. He died ‘65. Anyhow, it was something like 25 years after he died that they notified me that we had money coming. It was $75,000 for me and my one sister that was living. That was so much fun, not having to worry about taxes, and just spend it any way you wanted to. You didn’t have to budget for it. So all of my grandkids and all of us, whole family, I divided the money up. And I don’t know what my sister did with hers. But it was a fun time.
Bauman: Now, was cancer a result of working at Hanford then?
Roberts: That’s what they said, that it was—yeah. Whatever it is that caused the cancer. But it was funny how we had an expo over at the—it’s the Red Lion Kennewick now. We was going around to the different vendors, and I came to this one and I saw this picture of the Day’s Pay. And I said to the girl that this was what—my family here. And she asked me about my dad, and she said, I think he’s eligible. So she took the information and first thing you know, they called me and told me all about this. It took three months to get the money. But I just couldn’t understand how my dad, he always said, I will always take care of you—that how he could manage even after all these years to be sure. But it’s been a good life here. We’ve had change and stuff like that, but we never had to worry about money, because everybody had a fairly good job. I don’t remember that we had all this homelessness and stuff like that that we have now.
Bauman: Now, when you came here, you and your mom and your sisters came in 1944. So how old were you when you came?
Roberts: 22.
Bauman: Okay. And how old were your sisters?
Roberts: Well, Dorothy was four years younger than me. So I was 22, she was 18. And then my sister, Evelyn, was six. She was my folks’ afterthought.
Bauman: And then—you were married already, right? Because your husband was in the service.
Roberts: Yes. I got married after I finished nurses’ training. You couldn’t marry and be in the nursing class if you were married. But I didn’t take the certification test in Colorado, because I knew I was going to be coming here. When I got here, I fully intended to work as a nurse, but my dad had never been happy with that decision. And he says, they really need teachers. And so I got my emergency teaching certificate, and I didn’t have a steady class—I was a substitute in various places. Then after the war, they told me I had to get my teachers’ certification. Well, I wasn’t about to go through all that. I didn’t want to teach, and besides that, my sister became very ill. And I was taking care of her two kids plus my two kids, and I just said no. And I’ve just been doing everything but collecting a paycheck. [LAUGHTER] I’ve spent—I’ve got 8,000 at the Kadlec Auxiliary, and I should have more, but I kind of got involved in some other things. I’m a 70-year member of the Girl Scouts. And I’m on the Library Foundation Board. And then, of course, Kiwanis. I have been a Kiwanian for 24 years, and I have been their newsletter editor for that long. I didn’t intend to do that, but somehow or another—it was supposed to be temporary, but you know, temporary isn’t spelled right. [LAUGHTER] It means—you have to have to spell everlasting instead of temporary. But it’s something for me to do now, because I can’t do all the active things. I can’t climb stairs and all that sort of thing. And I don’t hear well. Well, somehow or another, the warranty has run out and there’s no place to buy extra parts. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So, when you father came to work in 1943 and you came in 1944, did you have any idea what sort of work he was doing? Did you know what he was doing at Hanford?
Roberts: All we knew was he was an electrician, and that was it. And he absolutely refused to talk about anything at work. He did—I don’t know what kind of an invention it was—but he invented something, and DuPont paid him for it, and they got the patent, whatever it was. I have no idea what it was, only that he that he got—I think it was $8. That was a lot of money. My husband had invented something, too, and DuPont bought it. But he only worked for DuPont for ten months, and then of course, GE took over. But he only worked for DuPont ten months when he got home from the service.
Bauman: Your husband? And what sort of job did he have?
Roberts: He was the chief power operator for the N Reactor. And his only boss was in Washington, DC. He was in charge of everything—the power house. And then he got sick. He worked for them for 32 years, and then he passed away. He had cardiomyopathy, which was very new 32 years ago. They didn’t know very much about that. But now, they know all about it. They know a lot of things.
Bauman: Right, right. So, when did you find out what was being made at Hanford, or the role that Hanford was playing in the war? Was it after the atomic bombs were dropped?
Roberts: Uh-huh. And that was something else. We—my mom and dad and I were out in Grandview picking peaches when the bomb was dropped. And of course, we were out in the orchard when the woman who owned the property came out and told us to get off her property, that we were nothing but murderers. And we had no idea what she was talking about. My dad tried--and she says, take those peaches with you. My dad tried to pay her, but she said, no, I won’t take blood money. So we came home, turned on the radio, and of course, we knew then what had happened, that they had dropped the first bomb. And then we were—the fire sirens alarms were supposed—the first stations were supposed to turn out when the Japanese surrendered, but they didn’t surrender, as you know. And then they dropped the other bomb. And they still didn’t surrender. So they—the higher ups, Truman and all of them, they didn’t know what they were going to do. Because they only had two bombs. But they weren’t going to let the Japanese know it. But finally, on the 14th of August, the Japanese surrendered. And the official surrender was signed in September, making the total war over with. And MacArthur signed the papers. Well, I don’t know if you wanted to know that, but that’s what I remember.
Bauman: Right. So what was the community of Richland like in 1944, 1945?
Roberts: Well, I’ll tell you. We had a bunch of alphabet houses that had been built. And there were no paved streets. And sometimes you’d go someplace and when you wanted to come back, there was no street there. They had done something else. There were very few houses, track houses as we called them, left. Everything had been torn down and made room for the government houses. And there’s one on George Washington Way—it’s as you enter town and it’s on the left-hand side. And it’s just been newly painted and everything, and it has a little bit different—they put a porch and stuff on it. So it’s a little bit different, but it is one of the original houses. I wrote a history of all the houses that were left.
Bauman: Where was your house, the house that you moved in to?
Roberts: We lived—my dad picked out 316 Casey. That’s—oh, I don’t know how to tell you where it was, but it was on the corner of Comstock and Casey.
Bauman: Okay.
Roberts: And he had a lot of—my dad was raised on a farm, and he never got over it. So, there was a lot of vacant space. And they gave him permission to go out into the area to dig up plants and trees and stuff from what was left over from those people who had moved out of the area. He had a persimmon tree that he was very proud of. But it never bore any fruit. What he didn’t know was that it had to be pollinized. He had to have two. And he grew roses. He belonged to the Rose Society and everything like that. But when we first came, where the Richland Village—the Richland Theater is now—Players Theater—was the Richland movie. And I’ll never forget that movie after the bomb had been dropped. The Song of Bernadette was being played, and I wanted to see that in the worst way. We got into the movie, and was watching it when all of the sudden, the lights went out. There was plain darkness. Well, we just knew the Japanese had sneaked over! [LAUGHTER] And had done something to us. Well—very orderly, they were nice—the manager told us to leave the building. We left the building, and waited, only to find out it was lightning that had—[LAUGHTER]—the Japanese had nothing to do with it. [LAUGHTER] We had a treaty with the Wanapum—Johnny Buck—with the Wanapum Indians that he could go through the barricade to Gable Mountain, and do whatever they had to do. And he identified all the members as tribe members with him. And he made sure when he left that he had the right number going back. It was one of the few treaties that the US ever kept with the Indians, or so we were told. But there were just a lot of things—little things—that doesn’t creep up in history, but makes history interesting.
Bauman: Right.
Roberts: That here we were, breaking treaties, but we did manage to keep one of them. Now that they’re—when they’re talking about removing the Nike missiles from the top of the Rattlesnake Mountain. And some of us said no, and others say, yes, let it go back. The Indians didn’t want it there—I should say Native Americans now, but it’s easy to keep the vernacular in historical content. So, what else?
Bauman: So, there was a theater here, how about shopping? Was there a place to go shopping in ’45?
Roberts: No. They had—where the John Dam Plaza is, on the other side was a store called the John Dam Grocery Store. And they—the government—wanted him to take over and furnish, but he didn’t want to go through all the red tape and all. But they built, oh, just construction thing all down—at the time, when government took over, George Washington Way was called Benton. Yeah, they had the grocery store, and then they had the beverage store right next to it. And on the corner, they had the post office. And we had to go get our own mail—they didn’t deliver, of course. [LAUGHTER] If we wanted to go do any shopping—real shopping—we had to go to Kennewick or Pasco or Walla Walla. But you had to have a C gas stamp, too. If you used your C gas stamp, you were grounded until the end of the month, when you got your new stamps. And then, of course, we paid for meat with red stamps, and canned goods with blue stamps. And you had shoe stamps, and sugar stamps, and, I don’t know. I still have a partial ration book in my collection. So that was kind of interesting. But I remember one time, I went to the store for my mom. And I went on the bus, and they dropped me off, I got what we wanted, went up to the cashier. And she was—well, she wasn’t exactly friendly. [LAUGHTER] And I handed her this $10 bill that my mom had given me. And she said, I want so many blue points and so many meat points, whatever. And I said, yeah, and I handed her the ten and was getting my book. And she said, I said! I want! And I said, okay! And I tried—I got the stamps out and picked up my things and left, only to find out that I still had the $10 bill when I got home. [LAUGHTER] Well, I’m one of these people that money doesn’t mean very much to me. As long as I can have enough to buy food and buy a toy for my grandkids, I’m okay—and pay what bills I have. But I didn’t know whether I wanted to go back up and give her the $10, or whether I should keep it. Well, I finally decided I’d just keep it and put it in the church collection the next Sunday. And that’s what I did. And I don’t know—I hope she didn’t get in too much trouble, being $10 short on the cash register.
Bauman: Right.
Roberts: And then they would get shipments of things through the day. One of them was towels—bath towels. Well, my dad, he didn’t have a bath towel. And so he went up to buy one, stood in line, because he knew they were there. When he got there, there was no towels—they’d all been given away. So the next day he did it two or three times. Finally, the cashier, or whoever was dispensing them, felt sorry for my dad, so she put one under the counter. So when he got in line, he got his. And he lived in the woman’s dorm, which is now the Yakima Federal and Loan. After the government gave up, it became the Saddler Hotel, and now it’s the Yakima Savings. See? I’ve watched it grow.
Bauman: You have! Well, before we started talking, you showed me a photo of Uptown Shopping Center. Do you remember any of that, when it first opened, or being constructed? How did that change things in Richland?
Roberts: Oh! It was great. We had some place to shop! That little bit in the middle—that was J.C. Penney’s. And, boy, that was really coming uptown, you know. And then they got other things in there. I can’t remember the stores, all the little stores that was there, but I know there was a restaurant. John Dam’s Plaza was called the Volunteer Park before the government took over. And the Women’s Club took care of it. They mowed, they watered, the dug holes for the trees. And so part of that is still probably about 100 years old. [LAUGHTER] And I’m very proud of it, because I belong to the General Federation of Women’s Clubs, too. But the fact—we didn’t think about sprinklers, I guess. They didn’t think—well, we didn’t have them, maybe, sprinklers. But they toted hoses and, like I say, mowed the lawn with a hand mower. No, there’s no power mowers then. We got—where the Allied Arts is was where they dispensed grass seed and lawn mowers and hoses and everything for everyone to keep up their yard. And then the garbage—we didn’t put the garbage cans out, they came and got them and emptied them and brought them back. And then they also furnished the coal, and just before winter would set in, they’d fill our coal bins in the basement. And we didn’t pay—we paid rent, but it included water and all that we pay now. I can’t think of anything else. But, oh, they took the rent out of the paychecks. When my husband came home, we lived in a B house on Marshall. And they would dump the coal in, and one time they left the window open where they dumped it. And we got overextended with mice and had to get that taken care of—set traps and stuff. Because—oh, I don’t know that we had the rat poison stuff that they had today. Well, they don’t even have the—well, they do have rat poison, yeah.
Bauman: You also mentioned Day’s Pay a little bit earlier, and you showed me a photo—you’re in the [INAUDIBLE]. What can you tell me about that day? What do you remember?
Roberts: Oh, I wrote a paper on how—you know, they had the barricade, and you couldn’t go out into that area. The Day’s Pay was—the money that was collected by the carpenters—all employees were buying war bonds, but the carpenters wanted to do something more. So they decided to buy an airplane. Well, they raised $300,000 for the plane. So when it was getting ready to be sent over to Europe, it stopped here. They lifted the barricade. We couldn’t take cameras or anything in, but we could go in. My dad managed to get my sisters—and my mother wouldn’t go, she just wouldn’t go—and I in to watch the ceremony. And then I remember, oh, those—[LAUGHTER]—those pilots, they were so handsome in their uniform—watching them. And then they got in the plane, and they took off. They lowered their wings to say goodbye to us, and sailed off into the wild blue yonder. It was a magnificent—awesome sight. That great, big plane, up there against—and it was a hot day. It was July the 20th, 1944, and it was a hot day. I don’t know if it was a 100 degrees like it is today. But it was hot. And watching it against the blue sky. Well, it made 26 missions over Europe. And every member of the crew received the oak leaf cluster. Then the plane, after the war, they took it to Arizona, and was there. And then of course there was the Enola Gay that dropped the bomb. And they decided that they were going to bring both planes to Richland, and have them on display—a parks type thing. But by the time they got theirselves moving, they had destroyed the planes. So that ended that dream. [LAUGHTER] Although, the Miss Tri-Cities boat for the boat races, they kept it. [LAUGHTER] But it was an awesome sight. I can still see that plane up there with blue sky.
Bauman: You mentioned the boat races. Do you remember any special community events in the ‘40s and ‘50s, things that happened that brought the community together, or--?
Roberts: Well, Richland had what they called Atomic Frontier Days. And then Pasco had—I don’t know what they called it. And Kennewick had one. And they each had their own—Kennewick’s was the Grape Festival, I think it was. Can’t remember Pasco. I’ll have to think on that. And I know Sharon Tate was Frontier Queen one year, and she was also the Autorama Queen. And my daughter was the runner-up on that. And I was very unhappy with that. I didn’t want her to be, but I didn’t want to deny her, either. All the sponsors of the girls paid for their dresses, except Buick, which was sponsoring my daughter. I had to pay for her dress. And that didn’t suit me very well. My Scots ancestry—still shows. I laugh at my grandson, Craig. I’ll say, well, I don’t think so, it costs so much. He says, Grams, why are you worrying about money? [LAUGHTER] So it’s just, I don’t know, genetic I guess. I heard this story that my great-grandmother was so tight that if she had an orange, she would peel the orange, give the orange to my grandmother, and then she, herself, would eat the peel. She wouldn’t throw it away. And then she lived in—this was in Scotland, at the Gatehouse for the Fleet River. There was about ten families that lived there, at the Gatehouse for the Fleet River. And they would get an ox bone and then the first one would boil it for so long, and then they’d pass it on down. And then it was somebody else’s turn to have it first, and like that. But they didn’t always buy ten new oxtail bones.
Bauman: I want to ask you about one other event that happened, that was when President Kennedy came in 1963 to dedicate the N Reactor. Did you attend that event at all?
Roberts: Oh, yeah.
Bauman: And what do you remember about that?
Roberts: Only that I thought it was a lot of malarkey, just because Kennedy was there, and everybody didn’t really come to see the opening of the reactor. They came to see the President. And he came to see—or to dedicate the reactor. And I—oh, I don’t know—I think sometimes that we put too much emphasis on things that we shouldn’t do. But I was working as the bookkeeper in the Girl Scout office, and I had to take time off to do that. So we were closed during that time. But I don’t know, I wasn’t impressed. And then GE asked my husband to be the chief operator of the N Reactor. So that’s how he got there. He started out as a coal handler at 100-F, and worked up to B operator, we called him. And then he became chief operator. And his only boss was in Washington, DC.
Bauman: And you—when we were talking earlier, you mentioned there had been four generations of your family that had worked at Hanford. Your father, right?
Roberts: My father, my mother, my sister—she worked the switchboard—then my son, yeah, and my husband, and my granddaughter Cori worked for Battelle, and my daughter-in-law worked for—well, she just retired. And I think that’s all of them. But there’s four generations there. I never did work in the area. I just worked being nosey all around. A know-it-all.
Bauman: I wanted to go back and ask you, you mentioned that when you first came here, your mother wasn’t especially happy about the place. What was your first impression of the place, do you remember what you thought of the place?
Roberts: Oh, I thought it was the start of a big adventure. I really did. But what do young people know? [LAUGHTER] And we were only supposed to be here five years, and then it was supposed to be all over. But somehow or another, the birth of the atomic age created a lot of things that they thought they could use and carry on. And a lot of people did go back home after the bomb was dropped. But we didn’t. My dad was happy with his job, and Mom had kind of, well, settled in a little. And I think she decided, when Dad—when she wouldn’t let Dad take the Pearl Harbor job, that she’d better do something. But Kadlec Hospital—I can remember when it was built, and they moved the hospital from Hanford to Richland. And it was kind of across the thing. One wing was for the dental offices and stuff, another wing was for the pediatrics, another wing was general, and then they had the one wing for psychiatric. But they only had one bedroom in it. So they didn’t figure people were going to lose their minds. And then it was in—I think it was in 19—oh, shoot. It had to be—I was president of the auxiliary ’84 to ’86, so it had to be ’82, when the hospital was opened, built. And it was three stories. But the top story was used for years just as storage, because they didn’t have enough beds. But one story that we really enjoyed was— Somebody was sleeping in the beds. And we didn’t know who it was. But we do know the bed was left unmade, and there was no sugar or crackers and stuff in the NICU thing. Every morning, it was empty. Well, they never did catch who it was, but it was about three weeks before it finally ended. But we thought it was funny—[LAUGHTER]—that we couldn’t catch him. And we were sure it was a man. [LAUGHTER] And another time, it was about 11:30 at night, and I was working the emergency shift. And this man come in, and he wanted to go upstairs to visit his girlfriend who had just had a baby. And I said, well, I’m sorry, but visiting hours are over. And he says, it’s my girlfriend and my baby, and I get to see it anytime I want! I says, I’m sorry. And about that time, another auxiliary come up and she said, if you’re so sure you want to see it, why didn’t you marry her before the baby got here? Well, of course he threw a holy fit. And I had, since I was president of the auxiliary, I had to talk to her and say we can’t say those kind of things. But my grandson, Craig, he and his mother had been in an automobile accident down here on—oh, well, it’s Jadwin, down there, and McMurray. And he was in the emergency room waiting to be checked out, to see if he was okay. And here I was, and he heard this guy say he was going to drop a bomb on us if he didn’t get to see. And poor Craig, when he saw me, he said, Grams, are they really going to—[LAUGHTER] I said, no, he isn’t. But he was only about, oh, eight years old, and it really sounded something. So I have a lot of stories like that.
Bauman: How long were you with the auxiliary—or how long have you been with the Kadlec Auxiliary?
Roberts: 34 years. I got 8,000 volunteer hours. And I was the gift shop whatever. And I was also the printer’s devil, as they called me: I helped the printer with printing all the manuals and stuff. And one thing that we did was—AIDS first came on the scene and we first started talking about it. The Public Health wanted a manual to have classes to show how to take care of these patients. So somehow or another, Kadlec print shop got involved, and we made—Tony, the printer and I, we made 1,700 manuals, saved the Public Health $30,000 for materials. We did a lot of good work. But I sometimes did have an emergency thing, and Tony’d call me up in the middle of the night—it wasn’t the middle of the night, but 7:00 or 8:00 at night. And I’d go down and I’d help him get it done.
Bauman: So you’ve been here since June 20th of 1944, so 71 years now. How has Richland been as a place to live?
Roberts: Well, I grew up in coal camps. So it was different. I didn’t have to carry in coal, I didn’t have to carry in water. But my dad always made sure that we had electricity in the house we were living in. I never did feel that I was needy or anything. I mean, my sisters and I had a great time doing whatever we wanted. Maybe it was hard on my folks, I don’t know. But my dad always had a job. He never had to go on WPA or anything. But he did go away a lot to jobs other places. And we stayed where we were for a while. But, I don’t know, there was all kinds of things, like explosions. I remember one of my dearest friends, her father was in an explosion, and they had to leave. And then we had a lot of foreigners. Especially the—and they were called Mexicans, not Hispanics—Mexicans that were there. And they didn’t speak English. So we learned, even how to swear in—[LAUGHTER]—in Mexican. The equal rights things still weren’t—they hired these people—the blacks—to work in the mine, but they couldn’t live in the camp. They had to live across the railroad. And one of my dearest friends was the cutest little black girl—pigtails, and all. And we were in fourth grade, and we’d walk home together. But she couldn’t come in to my house. And so I’d walk with her to her house, but I couldn’t go in her house. But her mother always had big chunks of bread and jam—they couldn’t afford butter. And we’d sit on the porch and eat it. And the porch was as clean—you could use it without having a plate under it. But we got along real well, just that way—not going into each other’s house. But I think about it now—at the time we never thought anything about it, we just knew it was a rule. And then here, we had the black side and the white side. They had fountains where the Hers and His beauty shop, right across the street from there—they had fountains, and one was labeled Negro Only. And then before they opened up the Parkade and all, government would bring in top-notch entertainers, like Kay Kaiser. And they brought in Marian Anderson. But she couldn’t stay at the [INAUDIBLE] quarters because she was black. And she had to stay in a hotel in Pasco, because Kennewick didn’t allow them, neither. Kennewick—you were caught on the street after 6:00, you were arrested if you were black. So, I don’t know. We’ve come a long ways, yet we’ve got a long way to go to really [SIGH] understand each other.
Bauman: You’ve seen a lot of change in Richland, I imagine, over the years.
Roberts: Oh, yeah, oh, yeah.
Bauman: A lot of growth, obviously, of the population—
Roberts: Yeah. I was thinking about the barber shop, Ganzel’s, and how everybody—their chairs were always full of the people getting their hair cut. But I cut my husband’s hair, and my mom cut my dad’s hair. So, we didn’t have to worry about barber shops. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Well, was there anything else that you want to share with us? Any—
Roberts: Well, I don’t know, it seems to me like I’ve been talking your—[LAUGHTER]—talking so much, I don’t know what I’ve said. And it’s all kind of not falling in place. One thing, probably, is Central Church.
Bauman: Oh.
Roberts: How it was called the United Protestant Church. There were 14 cooperating church sponsors. And the Sunday school was held in the Sacajawea—which is torn down as a parking lot now—Sacajawea School. And the church was held in the high school auditorium. Then we needed a church—the Catholics needed a church, too. And it was the one time the two denominations worked together with the government to build the two churches. It was interesting. I was on the board that was part of the negotiations. Of course, the churches were just typical army style churches. And now look what they are. [LAUGHTER] You never know. And then, they started the school and then—they did, the Catholics—and then they built a convent for the nuns who taught the school. We did that. Oh, and then high school—the schools, we had—when the government took over, we had two schools: the high school, and an elementary school—elementary to the eighth grade, and then high school to graduation. Well, after the government took over, the school became—[LAUGHTER]—I say a saloon. You could go—anyway the blue laws in Washington said that women could not sit at the bar. And so we had to sit at—not that I ever was in there—I use we—our family was teetotalers—my dad, everybody. They had to sit at the table. And they couldn’t be served unless they were sitting at the table. But they weren’t even supposed to be in there, unless they—so that was kind of unusual. And then Howard Amon Park. They had—the government—had changed it to Riverside Park. And it stayed Riverside for a couple, three or four years. And it was Howard Amon Park before that. And the family, as well as a number of other people wanted the name back to Howard Amon. And they changed the name. But when the floor came along, there was a gazebo that they band concerts on Sunday. And when the flood came, it inundated the swimming pool and took the gazebo away. They couldn’t have the swimming pool because it was contaminated. That’s when they built the wading pool.
Bauman: Oh, okay, sure.
Roberts: I don’t know. There’s a lot of stuff, I could talk all day, I guess. [LAUGHTER] I’m just proud of what we’ve accomplished. But I was proud of what we accomplished in the coal camps, too. We were very close, and there was a lot of funny things that happened in the camp. But we all—the teenagers, we were all together. We didn’t separate to different groups. And then when the gypsies came to camp, that was something else, again. We were very, very sure that one of us was going to get taken away with—the gypsies took kids. But my thought always was, they’ve got so many kids, why do they want any more? Why do they want to take somebody else’s? But you know kids. They think things that other people don’t. Unless you have something else, I—
Bauman: Yeah, this has been very interesting, very helpful. You have a lot of memories about Richland.
Roberts: And I have a lot of papers that I’ve written. I have written a paper, and it won first place, grand prize in a creative writing contest. It’s called Modern Pioneers. And it tells about all the things that women did in Richland, and to bring it into modern world with Pat Merrill being the first mayor of the city. And—oh, what’s—[INAUDIBLE] who worked with—to develop the bomb. But she was hoping they wouldn’t find it. Then [INAUDIBLE] she designed the reactor. So women—if it hadn’t been for women, we wouldn’t have got anywhere. And then I wrote a very short history of how the Manhattan Project came about. And it, too, won first prize in a creative contest. The judge commented that even when he read the first paragraph, he knew it was going to be the first. [LAUGHTER] And so, I don’t know whether I won legally or not. [LAUGHTER] So, that’s it.
Bauman: Great. Well, thank you very much for coming in today, and for sharing your stories and memories about Richland.
Roberts: Oh, one thing I want you to know. Have you seen the book Nuclear Legacy?
Bauman: Yes.
Roberts: I think we need to get that back in schools, because it does tell how we came about from the Indians, and then the Russian side—the kids writing about that. But I think it’s one of the best books that we’ve got on the whole history. And I got a lot of them. I even have Einstein’s—[LAUGHTER]—books, and Heidelberg. I got into an argument with Tom Powers, the author of the book. He came here mostly, I think, to sell books. But anyhow, I suppose, he said that we did not need the atomic bomb. That it was this and that. And he made a couple comments and it—[SIGH]—we were all there listening, and I challenged him on what he said. But, do you know, when the Germans took over in Belgium, we knew that something was going on. But we got it first. And Hitler decided on the V-bombs—what was it called? Something. I can’t remember the name, now, but he thought they had enough power to go across the channel to London and bomb them. So that’s it.
Bauman: All right, thanks very much. Hold on a second, we’re going to need to take care of your—
Man one: Microphone.
Bauman: Your microphone off.
Roberts: Okay.
Man one: Yeah just a little—you can put it down by the desk.
Roberts: Okay.
Man one: Thank you.
Northwest Public Television | Dawson_Murrel
Murrel Dawson: I assume this will be edited. [LAUGHTER]
Robert Bauman: Yeah, so we’ve had the phone go off and—
Dawson: [LAUGHTER] Oh, this is not easy for someone who has not done it very much.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] It’s okay. Just, I mean, essentially, we’re just having a conversation about your family and your experiences.
Dawson: Okay.
Bauman: I’m not—it’s not like an FBI interrogation or anything. [LAUGHTER]
Dawson: You won’t hold me tight to the dates? [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: No, you know, in fact, yeah.
Dawson: I think you have all the dates.
Bauman: Yeah, it’s more the stories, the memories, the experiences that we’re most interested in, than the—
Camera man: I’m rolling on both of them.
Bauman: Good to go?
Camera man: Yup.
Bauman: Okay, great. All right, well let’s start maybe by having you state your name for us, first.
Dawson: My name is Murrel Dawson.
Bauman: All right, thank you. And my name is Robert Bauman, and we’re conducting this oral history interview on August 6th of 2013. And the interview is being conducted on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities. And we’ll be talking with Murrel Dawson about her family and their experiences in Priest Rapids Valley. And so let’s start with that, maybe, if you could talk about your family’s history a little bit, maybe how they came into the area and that sort of thing.
Dawson: Well, my mother and dad and the oldest four of his kids came from Prosser. It was right after Depression days. Dad had hired on to work at Midway, in the construction. It was under construction at that time. So we had about a month left of kindergarten—school, for me, talking about myself. And we went to Hanford to be near my dad. And we stayed with my Aunt Nell Clark and her family that had a home there at Hanford. And I went and finished my kindergarten there at Hanford. My dad hired on then at Priest Rapids as an operator at the little powerhouse. And they needed an operator, so there was an empty house there at the time. So they moved us up, or we moved up to that house. And that was in May of 1941, I believe, the end of May. And that's how we got there. Dad needed the job.
Bauman: Mm-hm. And so he worked in construction?
Dawson: He was, I would say, a laborer. And prior to that, when he lived in--he came from North Dakota, and I think when he lived back there, he had done some work as an operator for some company. I don't know what. But--so he had some experience at that. But during the Depression days, like everyone else, he just hustled for work, traveled for work, because we had four children in the family at that time.
Bauman: And what about your mother? I understand she had lived in Hanford growing up at some point?
Dawson: Mother's family--mom came from Indiana as a little infant. They came out on a train, settled in Hartline on a wheat farm. My grandfather was the civil engineer, I believe, county engineer for that county. Then I think they lived in Ephrata for a short time. He was not a good wheat farmer, I understand. [LAUGHTER] But he had several boys that did the work that were partly grown at that time. So then at that point, they moved to Hanford. Mother was a young child. And they farmed in Hanford, and my grandfather was a surveyor. He did the survey work for the soldier homes at Hanford. And my Uncle Howard, his son, helped him. That was one of the things. And he was also the engineer on some of these little bridges you'll see. One was across Crab Creek. I don't even think it's there anymore. But then about the time, I think, that mom was entering high school, they moved to Prosser. She went to school in Prosser, high school in Prosser, and that's where she met my dad, and they married. And I was trying to think--she, how many years would it be later? I don't know. But anyway, when I was in kindergarten, that's when they left Prosser. But mom actually graduated from Prosser High School.
Bauman: And what was your grandfather's name?
Dawson: Stradling was the last name. Edward was the first name, Edward Stradling.
Bauman: Did your mother talk much about her time growing up in Hanford?
Dawson: A lot. [LAUGHTER] She loves stories. Mom was a great storyteller. She tells about her and her brother John that were not the youngest, but next to the youngest two in the family. It was their job to herd the cows, bring the cows in, make sure they didn't run off when they went out to graze. She liked to tell stories of Grandma and the kids going down to the river for--they'd catch fish there at Hanford and clean them and cook them over a fire. Also about Grandpa driving his car out across the road to Prosser, where he did a lot of his survey work, and getting stuck in the sand and that kind of thing. And they would send her along so that if he dozed off, she could wake him up. [LAUGHTER] Keep him on the road, things like that. I don't know how much truth was in all of that, but they made great stories to entertain us kids. And my grandfather also laid out the cemetery in Prosser. He did the survey work on that. That's where my grandparents are buried.
Bauman: Okay. And so did they have a dairy farm? What sort of farm did they have? You mentioned the cows.
Dawson: In Hanford?
Bauman: Hanford, yeah.
Dawson: They grew--No, they did not have a dairy farm. That was just the family cows. And I think they sold butter and milk to the hotel, but they didn't have a herd, to my knowledge. They raised broom straw, sorghum, and something else. I think strawberries maybe. But it was row crops, what they raised. Yeah.
Bauman: And then you said you spent very last month of kindergarten there.
Dawson: Right. We moved to Hanford from Prosser. Daddy was up at Midway working. And we stayed for a short time with my aunt, and then we got a little house, rented a little house. So we were there I think probably the last month, maybe two months of my kindergarten age.
Bauman: Any memories from that time at all?
Dawson: The only thing I can remember is I would have to walk home by myself, and I would get lost. And I could always spot our house if I got over the right hill because there was a big washtub hanging on the side of it, on the outside of it. That's my memory. [LAUGHTER] But no, I can't remember Hanford myself at that age.
Bauman: And what was your aunt's name?
Dawson: It was Frank Clark and Nell Clark. And she had six boys, Benny and Walt that we called Killdie. But those fellows are still here in Richland. They still live here in Richland. The other sons are gone. One lives in Wenatchee. Steve lives in Wenatchee. So, let's see, Howard and Ray are gone, yeah.
Bauman: And so was that your mother's sister?
Dawson: Uh-huh. Aunt Nell was mom's sister.
Bauman: And then so you said then you arrived in Priest Rapids in about May of '41.
Dawson: Mom, in her book [LAUGHTER]--that's where I get these dates--in May of 1941, she went up to Priest Rapids to what we call the John van Ordstrand house. It was the number three house. And it was vacant. And she remembers vividly of walking into a house that the wind could blow dust through. It was built in 1914 or something like that, and it was built flat on the ground. There was no foundation to lift it up. And it had guy-wires to keep it straight from the wind. It was guy-wired on the upwind side because the winds blew so hard that it--I don't know what you call it--lean, tilted, not a huge amount, but enough that they had to guy it up. And it was full of sand and dirt and leaves and whatnot, so Mom got in and cleaned it up and got the--her favorite story, and she was spooky of spiders. She was really scared of spiders--of rolling newspapers up tight and lighting them on fire and making sure they weren't flaming but just cinders, and burning the black widows out from under the tub that sat on legs. You know the old style tubs, and trying to clean up the bathroom. And then once she got all that done, then us kids came up from Hanford and joined. And my first recollection of being at Priest Rapids was Daddy got us kids, us four kids, out of our old Oakland car, stood us up, and said, remember one thing. There are a lot of rattlesnakes here, so be careful where you step, where you walk, and where you put your hands. [LAUGHTER] That was my first memory of being there.
Bauman: And so how long were you in that house?
Dawson: We were there a couple of years, I think. And then--when we moved to Priest Rapids there were three operators--my dad, an operator named Les Brooks--and his elderly mother lived with him--and Joe Grewell. And Joe Grewell lived in what we call the first house, house number one. And it was a well-constructed house, needless to say. It was one that was built later, evidently. Okay, those were the people that worked at the powerhouse. Joe Grewell left. He I think went down to Hanford to work for something. And a man named John van Ordstrand moved into our house. And mom moved our family over to where Joe Grewell had lived, which was a much better house, because the first house we lived in was, like I say, flat on the ground. And it was very, very common to find snakes in our cupboard, bottom cupboard. Never found a rattlesnake, but bull snakes would get in there occasionally. And so she didn't like that house. Mom didn't like living in there. And so anyway, we went to Joe Grewell house when he moved. And I can't remember for sure the time frame on it, but we probably lived in the first house a couple years.
Bauman: So what sort of community was Priest Rapids at the time? Can you describe what it was like living there, people who were there, that sort of thing?
Dawson: Mm-hmm. Like I say, there were three operators, which meant the operators that worked at the plant, they did not rotate shifts. They were on a given shift. My dad was on graveyard. And he worked seven days a week, no days off, graveyard until the Pacific Power and Light Company came and leased the powerhouse. And I think that was something like two and a half years, which made it tricky to go to town to get anything. So it was Dad, the other two operators--like I say, it was Joe Grewell and Les Brooks. They did the same thing, except one was on days, and one was on swing, and dad was on graveyard. Then the ranch house, which it was Brown Brothers and Sisk's ranch house at that time. There was Cassie. Well, first of all there was Bob Sisk and his wife Dell--Della, and Della's daughter, Kris--no, I'm sorry, Cassie McGhee. Her son Russell McGhee and his wife, Kris. And did I leave--oh, Wynn, Wynn Brown was also Della's son. So Wynn and Russell were brothers and their sister Cassie. They were at the ranch. The depot had one fellow living there that I remember. I think it was just the one, and his name is Bill Mays. And that was it, plus then at the Indian encampment was about two miles up the river from us. And they were there only in the winter, because they went out in spring, early spring, to work at Moxee. Firstly they helped in the orchards at Vernita before they left, completely left. They went down and helped pick fruit. And then they went on into the Moxee area to work in the crops, usually the hops, I think.
Bauman: So they were there in the winter months.
Dawson: They came back in the fall when the crops were in. They came back to Priest Rapids, right, and spent the winter.
Bauman: Did you interact a lot with the--
Dawson: Not on a social level. Johnny, Johnny Buck, the chief at that time, would come down to our house from time to time, not often but from time to time. And when he had to have letters written, he would ask my mom to write letters for him. And he would sit and talk to her, and she would write whatever it was that he needed to say, and would address the envelope for him and put the stamp on. And then I assume he would mail it at the depot. One year--I think it was only one year that Martha Johnny brought her tepee down and set up beside our house. This was when we were in the ranch house. So that the two boys, Bobby Tamanawash--later known as Robert Tamanawash--and Lester Rumtuck stayed with her so they could go to school with us. And Bobby was the same age pretty much that my brother Dean was at that time, and so they hung out a lot together.
Bauman: So tell me a little bit about the school in the area. Was there a bus that you took to school? How many kids were in the school, that sort of thing. Any specific memories?
Dawson: Okay. When we started school, mother tried to get a school started at Priest Rapids because there was none. And, believe it or not, it's under the Selah school district at Priest Rapids. But she found that out. So she went to the school district, and they said no, it would be too expensive to start one there. So they evidently came into some kind of an agreement with the folks that they would drive us down to Vernita School--that was an established school--daily. And then the school district would reimburse Daddy for the expense. And according to mom's book here, it was like $45 a month to do that, which was big money because Dad was working for $45 a month in warrants. That's how he was paid before the power company took over. So cash money was unheard of. It was warrants. Okay. So anyway, we went to Vernita School until it was closed down, and I think they closed it down like in 1942 or something when DuPont took over the area. They closed that school, which left us kids at Priest Rapids without a school. Mom went back to the Selah district, and they reopened the Priest Rapids school, which is the photograph I've got, and hired a teacher to come in. And there was no place for her to live, so mom boarded her until it was about that time that Brown Brothers and Sisks had to leave Priest Rapids because of the Manhattan Project. They were forced out. They resettled at Vantage. And that left the ranch house vacant. And then the power company--by this time PP&L, Pacific Power and Light Company had, if I've got my timeline right, had taken over. And they had leased the ranch house for the fourth operator to live in. But Sisks were allowed to stay for the lambing season. They got a Quonset hut and set it up out in the field by the house, and the family moved into it while the power company took over the ranch house, which seemed to me unbelievable. But it did. That's what happened, I guess. So then the teacher had the little house by the ranch house to live in, so she moved over there. Then we had our school there at Priest Rapids from that point on until '40--well, '47, '48 I think was probably the last year that school ran. But I wouldn't swear to that. It may have gone another year. That was the last year we were associated with it.
Bauman: So how many students were at that school, then, in Priest Rapids?
Dawson: Okay, one year, the two Indian kids--Bobby and Lester--Dean and myself, Edgar--my brother--I think that was it one year. Another year, Jake Strike had two little girls. He moved his family in. He was the fellow way up the river. And one year they were there, but the Indian boys weren't there. But basically [LAUGHTER] it was Anglin kids and the Yeager kids. The others came and went. And then the last year, mother drove the school bus up from Vernita, because we then at that point lived in Vernita--drove it up, and two or three kids from Midway came up and joined. And that was the picture of mom standing by the car. There must have been about five or six of us maybe.
Bauman: And what was your teacher's name, the one who was hired to come teach?
Dawson: Firstly it was Maddox, Mrs. Maddox--interesting lady. She only had one arm. But it was amazing. She could do everything. She lived independently. She was there a couple years. Mother was a little upset with her because she took school up at 10:00 and let us out at 2:00. And we were all in different grades, so mom didn't think she was covering what we needed to learn. Nice lady, but she did like to hold Sunday school more than she did regular school, which was okay. But we really needed to know some basic education. [LAUGHTER] So anyway, she was replaced by--oh goodness. Who was she replaced by? I know. It was Ms. Thompson. She came in. She was a very good teacher. She was going to be teaching 1947-48. And the only reason I remember those dates is the lightning struck our house the weekend before school was to start and burned it to the ground. That was the ranch house. So Ms. Thompson was going to live in the little house beside the little—we always called it the teacher's house. So when our house burned, obviously we had to find a place to live. So PP&L at that point found us a place down in Vernita, the closest one to Priest Rapids, which was the Knobb brothers' home. It was vacant because of Manhattan Project. Those guys were all sent out, left. They had to leave. So we moved there for that winter and spring. We were there when the '48 flood hit. And mother was still driving us up to Priest Rapids to school and to take Daddy to work. Dad was still at the powerhouse. So the flood caused some problems in the spring because it covered the road. So there were times that the speeder from the railroad station would come down and pick us kids up and take us up so we could go to school. The older children--my brother and sister, who were eighth grade and older—they drove down. Daddy taught my brother how to drive. I don't know how old he was, eighth grader I guess or something like that. And he would drive down, and they would go to Sunnyside. Although my sister, who when she was in the eighth grade, they took the eighth grade kids out of the Vernita School because the classroom was too much for the teacher. So the eighth grade kids went into Hanford.
Bauman: Oh, wow.
Dawson: And my sister was there when the bulldozers came in to start breaking up for Manhattan.
Bauman: She was at the school in Hanford?
Dawson: Yeah. She went to eighth grade there. Then after that, the kids came back home. And Edgar never went there, I don't believe. Edgar was still at home. And then they would go down to Midway, and Irvy Wright would drive a little bus into Sunnyside, all the kids into Sunnyside every day and bring them home again. And then my sister started living in Sunnyside with my aunt. And she was kind of the older one, and while she was in high school she roomed with my aunt and also a family named Beth and Claude Jones in Midway. She stayed there a year. But that was how we got her education.
Bauman: I want to go back and ask you a little about when your house burned. You said there was a lightning strike. Were you home at the time?
Dawson: Mm-hmm.
Bauman: That must have been a fairly scary situation.
Dawson: Well, we had just--Dean and I, my brother younger than me by a year--we had just gotten home from town, actually, shopping. And we had ridden in with Irvy Wright and come home. And I guess mother had picked us up, or somehow we'd gotten up to Priest Rapids. I don't remember exactly how. But we were trying on our school clothes, and the storm had come in. It was a humdinger. It was probably the hardest lightning storm I'd ever seen. And most of the storms would come down the valley, hit us a little bit, travel on down. This one didn't. It came in and just hung there. And we heard--Daddy was sleeping. He was on graveyard, because he was on rotating shift by this time. But we heard this big heavy bang, and he jumped up, got on his clothes, and went to the powerhouse. He thought the powerhouse had been struck. And mom, she a reassured us kids, don't worry. We've got lightning rods on the house. It can't hurt us. It won't hurt us. And my brother was actually mopping the kitchen floor for her right in the back of the house. It was a big house. And it struck right over the top of him. And he had just gone out the back door with the mop pail in his hand. And mom claims she never found the pail, but I don't know that. [LAUGHTER] That's probably a mom story. But anyway, some people--the Bells, Leo and Effie Bell, one of the operators by this time, they were coming up on the grade road, the road that leads up along the mountain to Priest Rapids. And they saw it hit our house. They saw the bolt hit the house. It hit the top of a poplar tree in the front of the house and bounced and hit the cliffs behind Priest Rapids. There's basalt cliffs back there. At least this is what Effie told us. And they realized the house had been hit, so they really drove as hard as they could. And you have to remember these were all rocky, rutty, unpaved, well-used, beat up roads. So they drove as hard as they could. They ran up, parked, ran up to our front step yelling, your house is on fire. And when the lightning bolt evidently hit the back of the house right over the kitchen and went right down the ridge pole of the house and hit the tree, it ignited our house. There was no way to fight it. The water pressure wouldn't reach. We didn't have big fire extinguishers at the house, plus we had no insurance. But anyway, someone ran and got Dad from the powerhouse and said, it's your house on fire. It isn't the powerhouse. So Daddy came home, and by this time, the neighbors were all there helping. They just couldn't get the fire out. So we all just got busy and carried everything out we could. Mom put the two little kids--Jeannetta and Butch--in the car, drove the car out in the field with the kids in the car so nothing would happen to them, and came back.
Bauman: That'd be very hard, yeah. And so then you moved to the house at Vernita.
Dawson: Yeah, the Knobb brothers' house, yeah.
Bauman: So obviously this is a very small community.
Dawson: Very small.
Bauman: Very small, so where did you do your shopping? Did you--for either groceries or for clothing or whatever, where did you go to? Well, for clothing, it was Montgomery Ward catalog or Sears catalog. We could order in. When we were first there in '41, a man named Reierson in White Bluffs, he had a store that sold food and dry goods of some sort. I don't remember the store at all. But he would send--see, we got our mail that way too, from Kennewick. And the mail carrier would come up every, I think three times a week. And mom could write a grocery list out, and he would drop it off at Reierson's on the return trip. And we all did that, all the people. And Reierson would take warrants. He would cash a warrant for us. And then next day, the next time he brought the mail up, he'd bring those groceries or whatever mom had written on the list. And I said, gee, mom, how did you--I don't ever remember not having some kind of meat on the table. We never had fresh vegetables to speak of, but how did you do that? You didn't have a refrigerator. And she says, as soon as the meat got there, she cooked it. She cooked it all. And we had lots of beans, and we had lots of those kinds of things. But never missed a meal. Okay, then later, also when Daddy was working seven days a week with no days off, he would get off work at 8:00 in the morning, and Mom would get up really early in the morning and take him down stuff so he could shave and get cleaned up and a change of clothes. And she'd cook his breakfast. She always cooked his breakfast and took it down or whatever. Then she'd get us kids up, get us all fed, get us all cleaned up, dressed, in the car. Daddy'd come up. He'd get there about 10 minutes after 8:00, get in the car. We'd drive to Sunnyside usually, because it was closest. And occasionally they would go into Hanford, I guess. But we'd time it so he could get home and catch a couple hours sleep, because he went to work at midnight again. So that was how they had to work it. Because the other operators, they couldn't fill in for him because if they took a graveyard, they would have had to--you know. So that's how we did it. So a lot of work on Mom’s part and lot of work on Dad's part.
Bauman: Sure, right. Were there any--you said this is a very small community. Were there community events that you remember, celebrations of any kind?
Dawson: One or two times we had, I remember once it was on a 4th of July, and I think what got us all together--there was a grass fire broke out. [LAUGHTER] And of course, like I say, if there was a problem, everybody came to help. And it ended up that after the fire was out, Mom--I think Dad killed a couple of chickens and Mom fried them, and Bill Mays brought some ice from the depot. They had an ice place, ice thing where you could keep it in sawdust. And they made ice cream. That was one of the gatherings I do remember. But Vernita School would have programs, and all of the farmers who still lived there, Vernita, would come to those programs. Those were important gatherings. They’d put on plays. The teacher would have us kids learn little parts, and we'd put on plays and so on.
Bauman: What about churches? Were there churches in the area?
Dawson: No. The church, one of the teachers at Vernita--what was her name? Fisk. I don't know what her name was, but she married Frank Fisk while she lived there, so we remember her as Mrs. Fisk. She would hold a Sunday school class. She was going to hold it on Sunday, but then everyone decided that gas was too expensive, so she would hold it on I think it was Friday after school, because people came to get their kids anyway, so they'd have it then so they didn't have to drive extra time. And our teacher at Priest Rapids, Mrs. Maddox, she wanted very much to hold church. However, Mom didn't agree with how she was doing it. [LAUGHTER] That took care of that. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: I want to ask you also then, how did you get news? Did you have a radio? Was there a newspaper that you got to learn about things that were happening?
Dawson: We got a newspaper. It came down on Sagebrush Annie with our mail. Firstly, the mail, if I remember right, the mail came through Kennewick to start with. It was called star route Priest Rapids, I guess. Anyway, then, when that no longer could happen--I assume it was Manhattan that stopped that--it came down through Beverly on the little Sagebrush Annie train. And we would get a newspaper that way. We had a radio, but the static was so bad it was rather difficult to listen to the radio. But we did it anyway. But that was that, and there was a telephone line--they called it the high line--that you could call from the powerhouse out. But our telephones in our houses were the cranky kind, and they only went to the powerhouse.
Bauman: Okay, so you couldn't call someone? You could only call the powerhouse.
Dawson: Yeah. I don't think we had the ability to telephone away from Priest Rapids from the houses. And I don't think they ever did, even after the Pacific Power and Light Company took over. I don't think they changed the telephone system.
Bauman: Do you remember any particular radio shows that you liked listening to?
Dawson: Yeah, Fibber McGee and Molly, Jack Benny, and then us kids would listen to the Inner Sanctum. And I think one was called Wanted Dead or Alive. These were all mystery stories. And my brother Dean, who, like I said, was a year younger than me, we had vivid imaginations, I guess, because we knew that one of those ten most wanted was out of Priest Rapids for sure. And if we didn't really pay attention, [LAUGHTER] we were in danger.
Bauman: You were in trouble, yeah.
Dawson: Yeah. So those were the things we--oh, I think the Lone Ranger maybe. Yeah, those were the--
Bauman: So that provided you some entertainment, the radio.
Dawson: Yeah.
Bauman: Any other things that you did for fun, for entertainment?
Dawson: We did a lot of climbing around the mountains, on the mountains. My sister, JoAnn, who was the oldest and the most--she had a good imagination for things to do. We would climb up in the canyons behind the settlement. And we found one thing. We found a hole in a cliff. Those cliffs were uplifts, I think you call them, like this. And you could climb in. There were shale slides, [INAUDIBLE] slides, down between. And one of them had a hole through it at the base. So we decided that it needed a name. So we took some paint up there, and we wrote Wishing Tunnel 1945 on it. And I think we wrote our names. I can't remember that part for sure, but 1945, Wishing Tunnel. And just not too many years ago, I worked with Jason Buck when I worked for the cultural resources at Battelle. He says, you know--he lives at Priest Rapids. He says, you know, we often wondered who did that, who put that there. I says, well, Jason, your question is answered. The Yeager kids did. But climbing around the rocks, the mountains, hiking. If some of our cousins came out, we played touch football and work up, I think is what you call it with baseball, where you softball and there aren't enough to make two teams, so you play it that way. My brother Edgar, who was two years older than me, had a horse. One of the Gandy dancers that came in at Priest Rapids to lay the new rails for Manhattan, when the Manhattan Project came in, he bought Edgar a horse, a saddle, and a bridle. And I think he bought it from the Indians. And so my brother, he was pretty good size kid for his age, although he was 12 probably, 10 or 12. I don't know for sure how old he was. He rode that horse everywhere. And one time, for some reason, we didn't get our mail from Beverly. And this, I think to this day, I think about it, and I think, oh, Mom, why'd you do that? But anyway, she let him ride that horse to Sentinel Gap. You know where that is? Above Priest Rapids where the Beverly, the railroad tracks, the bridge goes across the river. He rode that horse up there all by himself, walked across that bridge, got the mail, walked back across that bridge. He's just a kid, gets on his horse and rides back. Well, I think to myself, riding a horse up there wasn't all that big a deal. But to walk across that bridge with the Columbia under it--And another thing, the same guy that bought the horse for him, a nice man, but he was from I think New York or someplace. He was just a laborer that came out to help lay the tracks. We got to know him a little bit. He and Edgar rode their horses down across the ferry at I assume Vernita. I'm not sure what ferry they went across, but I think it was the Vernita ferry, which was the Richmond ferry, I believe, by name, down to Ringgold Ranch. And he spent the summer there working for the Ringgold Ranch. Then in the fall, when it was school time, he rode his horse back up, came home. Now, this day and age, do you think I'd let my kid at that age do that? No. [LAUGHTER] Mom didn't know who lived at Ringgold. They weren't personal friends. But Edgar got to do a lot of stuff. And he also got to help the Indians run their horses in off the hill. They would have a roundup to brand the colts and count them or whatever you do when you run your horses in. And Edgar used to ride with them. He was not that old. And I think, wow. But Dean and I, we were the little ones. We had to make our own imaginary villains looking for us and things like that.
Bauman: So you moved there in May of '41. Obviously, America got involved in World War II in December of '41. I wonder how you heard about Pearl Harbor and that sort of thing. Do you remember anything about that?
Dawson: I think maybe somebody called the powerhouse. I think that's the way we found out about that. But I do remember how we found out what they were making at Hanford. Edgar, my brother, went up to the depot, got the mail, and came back. And our paper--that's where we got our paper--and he opened the paper, and he said to Mom, I know what they're doing at Hanford. They made a bomb. It was on the paper. Now, I don't know if that came out in the paper a time--if there was a time lapse from the time of dropping it till it was on the paper. But that's how we found out was when Edgar brought the paper in from the railroads.
Bauman: So before that, what sort of impact did Hanford have on you? Did you know anything about what was going on?
Dawson: No. The main impact, when DuPont took over, Browns and Sisks had to move their ranch. That brought in the fourth operator, which brought money to Dad and time off. That was our impact on our family. And at that point, they started taking up the railroad tracks, the rails, and reinforcing them, putting down heavy ones. Because at that point, or very soon after, Sagebrush Annie didn't come anymore. It was those huge, long trains, those heavy trains bringing the materials in to build Hanford. Prior to that, Sagebrush Annie just came down and picked up the fruit at Vernita and White Bluffs and turned around and went back. And it was a big long train with big two cars then and the caboose. And also we had to have identification. And I don't remember if all of us kids individually had to have identification, but Mom and Dad did before they could come through the checkpoint at Midway. Because Midway was then guarded by MPs, and we'd have to stop there, and they would check our identification and let us go through. And if we had company come to visit us, we had to verify who they were and what they were doing. That was the impact, yeah, one impact, yeah.
Bauman: So you obviously knew something was going on because there were guards and the trains--
Dawson: Mm-hm. We had no clue.
Bauman: What the guards were--
Dawson: No.
Bauman: Somehow related to the war effort.
Dawson: Yeah. And all of the ranchers, which were mainly fruit people, were forced out of Midway, the Midway-Vernita area. Midway, of course, it was fully constructed then, and it had a full crew of workers there to run that substation. No, we didn't. We all guessed. We were told that if we heard a siren, a warning siren, to immediately go to the railroad track, and there would be a train or someone, some vehicle coming up the railroad track to pick us up and take us to safety. So we assumed that it was some kind of poisonous gas or something like that. That was our assumption. But no, there was not a clue, not a clue.
Bauman: And you had aunt and uncle and cousins in Hanford.
Dawson: Mm-hmm.
Bauman: And so they were still there in '43 and had to leave at that point, is that right?
Dawson: Their place was taken over, yes, and they moved to Yakima. But by then, the six boys were grown, and we were teenagers, late teens, I think. And some of them--obviously I think there were four of them ended up in the military. But no.
Bauman: So you knew that people, obviously the people in those communities had had to leave and--
Dawson: Mm-hmm, yeah. The reason we didn't have to is that they needed someone to man the powerhouse. They needed those operators. So they were--Dad and the rest were allowed to stay. The Indians could come in, in and out. But they were not allowed to go down to their fishing areas down at Hanford. They were also blocked out. But they could come into Priest Rapids and spend the winter and go out. And I don't know if they had to have identification or not. I assume that they probably did as a group, maybe. I don't know. I have no idea.
Bauman: And then how long did your family live in Priest Rapids?
Dawson: From May of 1941 until September of '47 when the house burned down. Then, when we went to Vernita, we were there until--we were there September of '47. '48 was the flood. So we went to Yakima in '48, 1948.
Bauman: And what was the reason for moving to Yakima? Was it the flood, or--
Dawson: No, it was the fact that they had transferred Dad. Dad got a job at the PP&L substation in Union Gap, I think, or maybe it was Naches. Anyway, they transferred him. By this time, my little brother and sister were approaching school age. Dean and I were in junior high. Edgar was in high school. JoAnn, of course, she was out of high school. She was working in Sunnyside High School in the office as a secretary by that time. But it was just time that we left. Yeah.
Bauman: So, you were there from '41 to '48 in the area.
Dawson: Mm-hmm, mm-hmm.
Bauman: I wonder if there's anything we haven't talked about in terms of things you think it's important for people to know about the area at the time, of what it was like living there, growing up there?
Dawson: Well, it was isolated. It was an isolated area to live. But it was a community, a close community. The ranch house had big wheat field--or not wheat fields, alfalfa fields. See, there were one big long one and a thin one down there. And, like for example when it was hay cutting time, they had the bailer, and they'd bail the hay. And Cassie would sit on one side, the wire that poked through and someone had to grab it and stick it in, my sister JoAnn worked on one side. My brother Edgar bucked the bales. He was a real strong kid for his age. [LAUGHTER] He bucked the bales. And lambing time was, for me growing up as a little kid, I loved lambing time, because they would bring--it was a sheep ranch, by the way. And they would bring somewhere around 2,000 head of sheep, maybe 3,000. I don't know, somewhere in that vicinity. They would trail them down the river, and we could see them coming. And that was so much fun, you cannot believe it. And Bob Sisk, the senior, the eldest of them all, he was really a great old man. And he would put up with me tagging after him every hour that I wasn't in school and Mom didn't have me doing something. During lambing season, Dean and I would be up there. And we'd hang out in the lambing sheds. And a couple of the Indian fellows would come and help with the lambing. Cy Tamanawash was one of them that I remember. And it was just a lot of fun. And Bob never talked to us much. He'd just put up with us tagging after him. And he gave us a bum lamb for a pet. And we raised it. His name was Joe, and we raised it with our dog. And I think it was probably the only lamb in history--the only sheep in history that chased cars. And cars coming into Priest Rapids was pretty rare, and our dog would go out and chase the car. And the lamb would go with him. And the lamb would chase the car even as a grown sheep. And that would get the driver's attention when a sheep was chasing his car. And also what was really strange, it would go swimming in the canal with the dog. Now, sheep don't go swimming. But anyway, I think the lamb thought it was a dog. But Bob gave us that lamb, and Mother raised it behind the kitchen stove in the winter when it was cold. This little lamb was in the box, and she'd get up and feed it milk every couple hours. Mom worked real hard. But that was a fun part was when Browns had their sheep in. And then in the spring, they'd separate the youths that had twin lambs and the ones that had single lambs. And Bob always took--Bob Sisk always took the herd that had the twin lambs, because it was trickier to keep all those sheep together. And so as soon as school was out, boy, I'd be out, and I'd track him down, find out where he was. And I'm sure I sat and talked his ear off. He just occasionally would tell me a story about getting a bear attack when they had the sheep up in the mountains and stuff like that, bear stories. And I realized when I was grown that they couldn't have been true, some of them. But that was all right. I didn't know. I was a kid. And one time, one spring, he came up to the fence, called me out, and said, I got something for you. Reach in my saddlebag. So I did, and here's his old red handkerchief, all something was in it. And it was a little baby jackrabbit, a little tiny guy. His eyes weren't even open. He had found it and brought me one. So, needless to say, it was Mom that got up every couple hours and fed that little rabbit throughout the night. We got it going till it was big enough it sat on our fingers, made a little puddle, and it would drink the milk out of our hand. And we raised that rabbit until it was a great big rabbit. And then I think--I think the cat killed it. But that was Penny the rabbit. So those were things, just stories.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much for coming in and sharing your stories and memories.
Dawson: Mm-hmm.
Bauman: I really appreciate it. Any other last things that you want to--
Dawson: One thing I thought was interesting and I don't know how many people ever saw it was the balloon that was shot down at Cold Creek. We were going out to town one evening--one afternoon, late afternoon. And we came up off the Vernita hill up, and we were headed toward Yakima at the Y. And there were so many security guards you could not believe it. They were everywhere in their cars. So we slowed down, obviously, went around the corner to go to Yakima or Sunnyside, either one. And out in the field was a big dirigible balloon that was deflating. And they just waved us straight through. Just go for it. So we did. But of course this added to my brother Dean and my imagination. [LAUGHTER] We knew there was an enemy had come in on that balloon. And he was hiding up in the canyons behind our house. We knew that. We really had to be careful. No mention of that anywhere in anything, that balloon, until after the war. And it was shot down. And I'm not really absolutely certain what, but it was either a Japanese balloon--I think it was a Japanese balloon that they had shot down. But I'm sure it's somewhere in the records around here, but we did get to see that.
Bauman: So you saw it. You drove past it.
Dawson: Yeah. It was still inflated, but it was down. The ends of it had deflated down. But I didn't know there were that many securities in the world that were around that site. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: I was going to ask you if, after the war ended, did the security change at all in terms of your parents having to show identification and that sort of thing. Did that continue still after the war, do you know?
Dawson: We couldn't go into Hanford. We were stopped at about--I think that we could then go back and forth there at Midway, but I can't really remember for sure. I can't really remember for sure, but I do know that we could not go into the Hanford site. And it would be, if I remember right, it would be about where Vernita Bridge is now, where Bruggemanns’ land is. I think that was as far as we could go. Yeah.
Bauman: All right, well, thank you again. I appreciate you coming in--
Dawson: Okay. [LAUGHTER
Bauman: --and sharing your memories.
Dawson: It was fun. I love to tell stories, as you can well tell.
Northwest Public Television | Chalcraft_Lloyd
Chalcraft: Does this station go into Seattle?
Camera man: No.
Bauman: No. This is in Eastern Washington, I guess.
Camera man: Yeah. This will get to--
Chalcraft: Why I asked that of which it's in, my brother lives in Seattle.
Camera man: It will all be available online.
Bauman: Yeah. And we can get you a copy.
Camera man: I'm recording.
Bauman: OK. We're going to go ahead and get started. Can you hear me OK?
Chalcraft: I'm ready, just as long as I can hear you. What you're asking, see.
Bauman: OK. Let's start by having you say your name, and if you could spell it also.
Chalcraft: Lloyd-- OK. Lloyd Robert Chalcraft.
Bauman: OK, great. And my name is Robert Bauman, and today's date is August 20, right, of 2013.
Chalcraft: My hearing is a little holding me back. I can hear you, but you're a real quiet voice.
Bauman: OK. And we're conducting this interview on the campus of Washington State University, Tri-Cities.
Chalcraft: Yeah, that's correct. I mean, do I got to OK that?
Bauman: No, that's OK. Well. Let's start if you could, by having you--
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Could you tell us about your family and how your family--
Chalcraft: Got here? My family came to Richand, Washington in 1910 from Idaho. My granddad homesteaded in Idaho, and they came into Richland in 1910. And I can go into quite a little history there.
My family, my uncle, my mother's brother was the first boy to die in World War I in the war. He was the first one to die in Richland in World War I.
And I got a great grandmother buried down in this cemetery. She was buried there in 1917. Well, I got a lot a relatives between here and Kennewick.
Bauman: What brought them to Richland? What brought your family to Richland?
Chalcraft: What brought them to Richland? My granddad was up in Rexburg, Idaho on a farm, and they still got the land. My mother couldn't breath and they came down for a dry climate for my mother. And they came down here in a covered wagon from Idaho in 1910.
And what do want? You want to continue on? Then, my mother graduated from Richland high school in 1918. She played basketball there, and then there was Uncle Frank.
Bauman: And what was your mother's name and your grandparent's name?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What was your mother's name and your grandparent's name.
Chalcraft: Her maiden name?
Bauman: Yeah.
Chalcraft: Jamison. Her grandmother's buried down here across from Hapo. Her grandma Davidson, and well, I got a lot of relatives buried and kept between here and Kennewick.
Bauman: Did her family have a farm here, then?
Chalcraft: Did what?
Bauman: Did they have a farm?
Chalcraft: In Richland?
Bauman: Yeah.
Chalcraft: Yes. Well, my grandparents had a farm here. We had a farm here, and my uncle had a farm here. We had four different farms. Granddad had a big cherry orchard. Where his orchard was is where that locksmith is on Van Giesen. That was a part of their orchard. That was a prune orchard only it had cherries there.
I went to school myself. I went to school here eight years, where now that little grade school is here. It used be called Richland Grade School, but it's not what's out down there south of Richland. Later in life, my boy played basketball for Richland.
My boy, he was on the Richland State Basketball Champion when they beat Pasco. Do you remember that? For the state basketball. My boy, he played football and basketball for Richland High School.
I graduated from Kennewick High School. See, we moved out. The government come in and took all this land over, and we moved to Kennewick.
Bauman: And how old were you then?
Chalcraft: I was about eighth grade.
Bauman: And what do you remember about that time?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What do you remember about that when you first heard that the government was going to come in 1943?
Chalcraft: People were pissed. People were mad cause they come in here and took this land over. They practically stole the land. I mean, people were really shook up. Do you know I mean? They didn't know what was going on. It was like an invasion.
You seen army trucks, the DuPont surveyors. I saw the plane that I think this guy-- they flew over this big scientist to pick this area out. I don't know if I would guarantee it, but they were looking for a place of vacant land. And that Columbia River is the key.
I remember that plane flew over. There was a Navy base in Pasco, but this plane was a big transport plane. These scientist were looking over that area.
Bauman: And do you know how much money you're family got for land?
Chalcraft: For the place?
Bauman: Yeah, how much money your family got?
Chalcraft: They had a farm there with cherries. My family, we had three or four families. My granddad had that big orchard.
They gave him $13,000 for a whole complete cherry orchard. They literary stole the land, which is here or there.
We got $7,000 for our little place. It's on the corner-- we lived on the corner of Sanford and Van Giesen.
Bauman: And how big was your place? How many acres?
Chalcraft: It was 10 acres. My granddad, I think, was-- I've forgotten now exactly. 25 or 30 acres.
Bauman: And what was his name?
Chalcraft: TJ Chalcraft. Thomas Chalcraft. That was my dad's father. Then my granddad lived here. When they come down from Rexburg's, he opened a blacksmith's shop in 1910. Jamison, Hershel Jamison.
Bauman: Oh, OK. Uh-huh. And so did your farm also have cherries on your farm?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Did you grow cherries?
Chalcraft: Yeah. We had cherries and asparagus. I've cut the damn asparagus.
Bauman: Hard work.
Chalcraft: Yeah. It kept me from dilly dallying. I was just a kid in school. Yeah. A lot of things-- my dad went to a federal land bank meeting in Prosser that night. And he come back to Mary and says, our government is going to take this property over and nobody believed him.
About February 1st, or the approximate time, well, everybody started getting letters from the government. This property is under eminent domain, or whatever. There's another wording for it, but they're going to take all this property.
By the way, in that school down here, that little grade school, they closed that. I got out of school a month early because the government took it over to make office space for it. And there was a schoolhouse where Carnation used to be, two story. I watched three years and they built that. This in before Hanford.
There was a two story school there. There was a duplicate out here at White Bluffs Hanford. Everything and the toilets were outside.
Bauman: So when did you move off the land then? What time in 1940?
Chalcraft: Well, we moved off right away. We moved to Kennewick, my folks did. Let's see. We moved right away. They had to move because the government started moving them.
You know, you don't understand. That's been 65 years ago. I get a little bit-- those numbers don't quite-- well, it was in '43 or '45. Well, hell no. The bomb was out here. [INAUDIBLE] is the one who built the Hiroshima bomb. So they dropped that bomb in '45, didn't they? So we moved out before that period.
Well, we had to. About '43, I can't remember the dates. We moved out probably-- we'd haul over to Kennewick--my folks bought property on Kennewick Avenue. Are you acquainted with Kennewick?
See, I own that Jiffy car wash. That's what's some of our land is when we move from Richland to Kennewick.
Maybe you've had a car washed. It's isn't like-- I own the land or the building. I don't own the car wash. Hulberts have that.
Bauman: Did you go to school in Kennewick?
Chalcraft: No, I didn't.
Which is immaterial. See, I went to school in Richland for eight years, and then I went to school in Kennewick for four years.
Bauman: What do you remember about going to school in Richland? Do you remember any of the teachers, or how big--
Chalcraft: I had good teachers. I actually learned more from Mrs. Randolph in reading than most of these kids. Some of these kids go to school and they can't even read now. She was a little crippled lady named Randolph. And she taught us first grade.
They had pretty good schools here. Actually, they did. And they told us you had to be a citizen in the United States before you could vote.
Bauman: Did you walk to school or was there a school bus?
Chalcraft: We had a bus. We had a bus. See, I lived about two miles down to Richland on Van Giesen down to Richland. We had a school bus. Yeah. They had three or four school buses.
Bauman: And do you remember any of your neighbors?
Chalcraft: Oh, yeah. Carlsons and Ericksons and Rudes. There was a lot of Ericksons. I think there was more Swedish people that lived in Richland than any other relative. Some of their homes-- My grandad helped build some homes here in 1918 that are still standing. Then, all the Swede's had pretty nice homes here.
Maybe you're Swede. Are you a Swede?
Bauman: No.
Chalcraft: But anyway, the Swede's are a real progressive type people. OK, a little deal here. The boy, this cook, this vet's place down here, this cook Erickson, the name of the veterans' and Erickson was one of the sons of one of the people that lived here. And he went into the service, and he got shot down over the Mediterranean sea during the war.
This little town had a lot of boys. We had, I can think, Don Culp was on the Arizona. He lived. His folks, well, his aunt was engaged to my uncle. But he was on the Arizona.
Tommy Van Poulsen was on the California. This was at Pearl Harbor. The Mosier boy, he was on Guam. He got captured by the Japs. He was a prisoner of war for the total war.
But Don Culp come off the Arizona and he went back to sea on a destroyer. And a storm come off the Philippines and they drowned. And Tommy Van Poulsen used to swim that river all the time. He swam off the Californian and got out. They were there where the Walmart has gone.
This little town had a lot of people in the service compared for the population. Tom [? Handbe, ?] he lived in parts of Richland. He was killed in Normandy.
Bauman: So how many brothers and sisters did you have?
Chalcraft: I got one brother, no sisters.
Bauman: Older? Was he older or younger? Was he older than you or younger?
Chalcraft: He's 16 years younger. They thought she had a tumor. I mean, there was no kids between, you know what I mean, between-- 16 years olds, went to school. Hell, I was starting high school or last when he was born. But he lives in Seattle now.
Bauman: So were you born in Richland, then?
Chalcraft: Actually, I was born in Lady Lourdes in Pasco. I understand then there was no hospitals in Richland. And there was no hospitals in Kennewick.
Mine was born in Kennewick, but there was a midwife. The only hospital here was in Pasco, Lady Lourdes. See, I was born in '29, but that was the only-- my brother was born at the Lady Origin, Pasco.
My boy was born in Richland. I got a son that played basketball for Richland. And he was born in the Kadlec Hospital down here. He played against Pasco when they played-- I don't know if you were around here, Pasco and them played for the state championship.
Bauman: So the community of Richland, when you grew up, do you remember any of the businesses that we're here at the time or anything like that?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Do you remember any of the businesses that we're here?
Chalcraft: Oh, yes. We had Ralton's Drugstore. John Dam had a store, and that park out there is named after John Dam. [? Yiddick ?] had a store here.
Hugh Van [? Dyne ?] had the tavern. And Rex Bell had a service station. I can remember, I could go down the street and Phil Charmin, he was a barber, and he's buried right beside my dad down this whole cemetery.
And as you go down to the park, there's a brick building sitting there. It's two story. And the bank got in trouble.
The banker went to jail in Walla Walla, because in 1930 the bank went bust. And at that time it was state controlled. See, federal took it after Roseville come in, but the banker went to jail. He went to Walla Walla.
Bauman: What was his name?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Remember his name?
Chalcraft: Yup. Nelson. You know what I mean? I don't know if his brother's still around or not, but anyway this was back in 1930. I don't know if it was big or whatever. The bank was closed when I--
Bauman: Your father was at some point then on the board of directors--
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Your father was on the board of directors of the--
Chalcraft: He was on the--
Bauman: --federal land bank, or something like that.
Chalcraft: Yeah. If you worked-- well, he's kind of a officer with a blind bank. We had a chicken hatchery we used to hatch baby chickens to besides our farm.
Bauman: And your farm, you grew mostly cherries and asparagus?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: On your farm, you grew mostly cherries and asparagus.
Chalcraft: Yeah, we did that. I picked lots of cherries and cut asparagus. These kids nowadays would think that was torture.
Bauman: Do you remember any special community events?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Do you remember special community events or gatherings, picnics, any of those sorts of things.
Chalcraft: Any special what?
Bauman: Special events. Community events. Any celebrations the community had or anything like that growing up.
Chalcraft: Not really. Not here. Most of the celebrations were in Kennewick. You know in this little town, small little town--
Oh, yeah. There's a boy named Shiftner. He was in the death march out at Carregador. I think it was Shiftner.
There was quite a few soldiers. I still don't remember them all that-- this Comstock, there's a street here in Richland. I don't know if that's-- I think he was from Pasco are Richland, but he died in the service I think.
See, this park is named after John Dam across from the federal building. And John Dam had a grocery store here.
There were two grocery stores here. And they had a place they made ice.
You know, everybody didn't have something to make ice, but they'd freeze this water and make ice. And people would get ice out of it. Ice house. And Phil Charmin, the barber, used to run that.
Bauman: What sorts of things, growing up, what sorts of things did you do for fun?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What sorts of things did you do for fun growing up?
Chalcraft: What did we do for fun? Well, we'd swim. We'd swim in the irrigation ditch or whatever. And where uptown
Richland was right now, that was a swamp. There was mud that deep. And where uptown Richland is there was an irrigation ditch running through it. That ditch still runs.
We'd go down there. It wasn't very deep, but it was a place to go swimming. We called it swimming, because we were told not to go in the Columbia River when we was kids. Well, that river was cold then, because there was no much dams below, you understand? More free flowing. It mad a difference.
Bauman: Did you do much fishing or hunting?
Chalcraft: Yeah. Hunting pheasant here was good. It was good pheasant hunting. There was no deer here, but there used to be-- we know it well. We hunted pheasant and the ducks. Oh, yeah, a lot of that, cause this all was asparagus field and open.
People from Richland would get shook up when the people from Kennewick would come over and shoot their pheasant. [INAUDIBLE] But there was good hunting here, and everybody knew everybody and go hunting. But you'd normally need a dog. And that asparagus is tall, and you damn near needed a dog to get your pheasants.
One time an airplane landed down in that pasture. What the hell-- where the riding academy used to be. The plane landed out there. That was another, well, it wouldn't be too important, but I remember everybody went down to steal gas out of the plane. Somebody said that burnt their motors up. I don't know, that aviation gas.
Bauman: When you were growing up--
Chalcraft: I played a little basketball. Nothing big.
Bauman: When you were growing up, did the farm you grew up on, did you have electricity.
Chalcraft: Oh, yes. We had electricity. But when we first moved we had a hand pump, then we got electricity come in.
Bauman: What about a telephone? Did you have a telephone.
Chalcraft: Yeah. And the neighbors-- we had a phone, but a lot of neighbors didn't. They'd come over and borrow your phone. A lot of them wouldn't even offer to help pay the bill, but they'd use the phone.
In them days, Mrs. Meredith, you had to go through a telephone operator. And Mrs. Meredith, she was kind of the-- and she knew all the gossip. But she was pretty god darn good though for emergencies. People would call in an you know what I mean?
Then Brown Telephone in Kennewick bought them out. I guess they owned that at that--
Bauman: Now, did you also work at Hanford at some point?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Did you work at Hanford at some point.
Chalcraft: I did, yeah, 20 years.
Bauman: Where did you work? What area?
Chalcraft: I worked in the reactors. I got cancer. I'm fighting cancer right now.
Bauman: When did you work at Hanford and which reactors did you work in?
Chalcraft: I worked at all of them.
Bauman: And what years? When did you start?
Chalcraft: I worked with the reactors. I was nothing too important out there, but I served a-- And then I got drafted in the army. I went to war. During the Korean, I got drafted. I was working though, 'til I got drafted in the army.
Bauman: And what sort of work did you do out there?
Chalcraft: Oh, different work. Handled uranium and all that. It was just, you know what I mean? I've done better investing. I wasn't an engineer type. I've done pretty well as an investor. Mostly these people sit on their butt around here, and maybe I shouldn't be saying that. That's probably getting cocky.
But anyway, these houses sold cheap around here in Richland. These duplexes are selling for $7,000. I had bought one. I sold it here a while back for $130,000. But you know, that was time goes along.
But the government practically gave these houses away. This was after Hanford produced the bomb. But these ranch houses, all of them went real-- government unloaded them pretty cheap.
I've seen a lot of changes here.
Bauman: I'm sure. What are some of the changes you've seen?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What are some of the changes that you've seen?
Chalcraft: All these houses all over. Well, yeah, what else? More people. You understand, Richland was a very small town, and you had to count the farms. The town or Richland itself was very-- well, I better there was over 100 people here. Maybe a little bit more, but I didn't live in Richland. See, we had the farms around it.
All the Swede's had homes. They were good farmers.
Bauman: So you worked at Hanford in what, the '40s and '50s?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: You worked at Hanford in the 1940s, 1950s?
Chalcraft: I went to work there in 1950. 1950 in the fire department. I worked in the fire department for a while out there.
Then I worked in reactors.
I'll tell you a little story. Before the government-- the day the government come in and bought this property, we played ball. I was going to Richland grade school. We went out to White Bluffs and played basketball. And about a few days later, the word came down that the government was taking it over.
You understand that Hanford, Richland, one thing probably they know, but I know, there were usually cemeteries in White Bluffs and Hanford. The government dug all of those up. You understand why? You think about it?
How could they let people go there if there's top secret stuff? How could they let people go out there and wander around the cemetery. There'd be all kinds of people wandering around, wouldn't there?
The government removed all of them bodies. Some of the families got the bodies. But most of the bodies were moved to Prosser. And then they were going to dig up this cemetery in Richland but they decided they didn't need to.
I had people buried in there. My dad's buried down there in this cemetery. My mother and dad were divorced. My mother is buried on that by-pass. But anyway.
Bauman: I wonder if you have any other memories or stories from growing up in Richland that you haven't shared yet that you want to talk about.
Chalcraft: Hey, gotta go. You think of a lot this stuff after you've stopped. OK, I'll tell you a little story athletic-wise. The bombers, there was no bombers. Let's go back. When I played basketball in high school before Hanford, they called them the Bronx, The Richland Bronx. And the colors were black and red.
And now, they're green and gold. OK, I'm just telling you what happened. They were called the Richland Bronx.
Then what happened, when Richland moved in they called them the Beavers. Well, they couldn't call them bombers, you understand?
Well, it could've been done. But they call them-- that's after Hanford moved in-- they changed the colors and they called them the bombers. But their colors are green and gold. But when I was in high school, I didn't go to high school. I went up to eighth grade there. But they were the black and red.
Then Richland come in and they changed them to green and gold and they called them the beavers. Then after, well, later on, they become the bombers. They couldn't have said bomber, I don't think.
Bauman: So when, actually when the government came in 1943 and told you you had to move, did you know why? You know, what was happening?
Chalcraft: What was happening?
Bauman: Yeah.
Chalcraft: It's a good question. No. It was rumor heaven. A lot of people thought they'd come in here for all-- well, to make toilet paper for one thing. Well, anyway. They hit a little natural gas out here on the Horse Heavens. Not Horse Heavens, out there at Bridal Snake.
They thought they'd come in, but just that people real naively, understand. You look at it. All that come in here, my god, millions of dollars.
Even the army moved trucks in here. Everybody moved in, and they sure as hell didn't bring all that in just to hit natural gas out here. Well, I didn't know until the day when they dropped the bomb. The guy that lived in White Bluffs, he come in and says, I've found out what they built Hanford for.
But what they've built is enough to burn those Jap's ass right off. That was his very words. His folks owned property at White Bluffs-- Hanford White Bluffs. And there used to be a little bus that you went from down Richland up to, there they called it, Sagebrush Annie.
I was only up there once when I lived here. Until I went to work out there. I was out there at that basketball game.
Well, I was just a kid. I didn't drive. And that's quite a ways out there.
Most of the people in White Bluffs and Hanford, they went over to Yakima to shop for groceries. There was a story out there in Hanford or White Bluffs. There was a grocery store. There was two high schools out there at that time.
Maybe you knew that.
And then they merged into one, because you know, I think, yeah. I'm trying to think of different-- I wish sitting in Richland the day they bombed Pearl Harbor, right in Richland at Thayer Drive. And it come over the news that they'd bombed Pearl Harbor.
Bauman: On the radio? Was it on the radio?
Chalcraft: Yeah, radio, we didn't have TV then. This was '41. That was quite a shock. When they said Pearl Harbor in Hawaii, and I was quite of a history buff. Some of these people still don't know what happened. But I knew we was going to go to war. And they hit Pearl Harbor that day.
That's the day Culp got off the Arizona any other boy swam out from the California. Well, I'll tell you a little side story. It didn't fit into Richland. But my uncle was in Pasco, and there was a guy sitting on a bar over there.
And my uncle, he was in the Navy, World War I. He thought he was Japanese, and my dad was with him. And he was going to beat the hell out of that Jap. Come to find out, he was a China man. You know what I mean? This is right after Pearl Harbor?
There's been a few other people that was picked up here. One or two guys here in this town were out hollering Hail Hitler. The United States Marshall picked one of them and shipped him back to Leavenworth.
Nobody bothered him but the day Pearl Harbor was hit, things opened up. They let him, when they were fighting Great Britain, that was a great deal. Germany was beating the hell out of Great Britain.
But the day Pearl Harbor was bombed, that changed the atmosphere. This one kid would come to high school and brag about the Germans picking the hell out of the British. But anyway, he shut up after Pearl Harbor.
Bauman: So what was Richard like as a place to grow up?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: What was Richland like as a place to grow up?
Chalcraft: What was Richland like, what?
Bauman: As a place to grow up?
Chalcraft: It was a kind of a quiet little quaint town. My uncle, he had never drove. He drove a team of horses. He drank a little beer. He trained horses.
It wasn't a regular policemen. Bill Perry had a server station here. He was the town Marshall. Things were quite quaint. You know what I mean? There was one guy that got in a fight with a guy, and I guess he died.
That was hot news in those days. This guy died from a fistfight. Actually, things were pretty quiet at that time, I guess. But we did go through World War I here. There were two or three boys that got in that one.
Bauman: You mentioned earlier some of the businesses in Richland. What about churches?
Chalcraft: What?
Bauman: Do you remember any churches at the time?
Chalcraft: Churches? OK there was a Methodist Church, and a holy roller. I remember they had a holy roller church right in downtown Richland, and they'd get up and role on the floor.
One guy was looking through the window, they had curtains over it and somebody pushed the barrel and he rolled right in with the holy rollers. Yeah, there was a Methodist Church right across from where the school was.
And I remember when they'd have funerals there. I remember one women died, Mrs. [? Kayler. ?] We remembered that. It was a different name. Well, my grandparents are buried out at that cemetery.
There was no Catholic church. The Catholic church was in Kennewick. They had a holy roller church. I guess a-- what's that one? I'm not a great church goer. I went to the Methodist church a little bit. Most of the churches were over in Kennewick.
Bauman: Well, is there anything else you want to share?
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Anything else you want to say about growing up in Richland?
Chalcraft: Growing up now?
Bauman: No. Anything else that you want to say about your time growing up in Richland.
Chalcraft: About what?
Bauman: About your time, your childhood.
Chalcraft: Anything else you want to say about it?
Bauman: Well, I played a little basketball here. I was no-- my peak come when my son won the-- my son, he was good enough to play. He was on the state champ. He was good enough to get a football scholarship at the University of Montana.
He wanted to go to Oregon. Oregon wanted him to go, but they wanted him to go to Columbia Basin and play a year and then go. He didn't get an offer for Washington State or Washington, but he did get an offer from all those big sky, Montana, Idaho, to play ball, football.
But in Oregon he kind of-- Oregon says, you go to Columbia Basin. Columbia Basin at that time had a football team if you remember. They wanted him to go over there for one year.
He had a chance to go back. I'm bragging a little on his college. He had a chance to go back to one of the big east schools-- they egg head schools. You know what I'm talking about.
He was pretty good in grades. But he ended up going to the University of Montana. He could've went to the University of Idaho, but then he got hurt.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you for coming in today. And share the memories of growing up in Richland.
Chalcraft: You know, a lot I've missed or thought about. A few names you hate to bring in, you know what I mean? Now, I have to ask you guys something. Is this going to be the air?
Bauman: It could be.
Camera man: Right. Parts of it will be.
Chalcraft: Huh?
Bauman: Parts of it.
Chalcraft: What did he say?
Bauman: Parts of it probably will be.
Chalcraft: March what?
Bauman: Parts of it.
Chalcraft: Part, not all of it.
Bauman: Right.
Chalcraft: Well, that's fine. You always got somebody-- You know, I've been a little-- I'm not too bragging-- but I've been a little successful. And I found out people, if you get a little successful, they'll run you down a little bit.
Northwest Public Television | Bush_Bob
Robert Bauman: I’m going to have you start just by saying your name, first.
Robert Bush: Okay, my name is Bob Bush.
Bauman: My name is Robert Bauman, and we're conducting this interview with Robert, or Bob, Bush on July 17 of 2013. And we're having this interview on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. And we'll be talking with Bob about his experiences working at the Hanford site. And so I'd like to start just by having you talk about how and when you arrived at Hanford. What brought you here?
Bush: Okay. During World War II, I was overseas. My parents were in the area, both of them working. My brother was also here in Pasco High School. When I came home from the service to Southern Idaho, Korean War broke out. Wages were frozen, and so I was looking to better myself. And I applied by mail. I was interviewed by telephone. And I came up here in 1951 to the accounting department, General Electric Company. They were the sole contractor. And for 15 years, in construction and engineering accounting, which was separate from plant operations at that time. And from there, my accounting career followed its path through several successive contractors. From GE to ITT, Atlantic Richfield, to Rockwell, and finally with Westinghouse. When I retired, I was with Westinghouse for one month.
Bauman: You said your parents were here during the war. When did they come out?
Bush: It was '43. 1943 and '44, my mother worked for the original postmaster of Richland, Ed Peddicord. And my dad was a carpenter. Built some of the first government houses called the Letter Homes. They were here about two years, I think. And then they went back to Idaho, I believe.
Bauman: Okay. And what part of Idaho?
Bush: Twin Falls, Idaho. Where I graduated from high school.
Bauman: Okay. What were your first impressions upon arriving in the Tri-Cities?
Bush: That's kind of interesting, Bob. Because I came up ahead of my wife and two--year-and-a-half old, and three-and-a-half-year-old sons. About two weeks ahead of them. And so I found a Liberty trailers to rent—the housing was nonexistent. And I found a Liberty trailer, which means it had no running water, no bathroom. It was like a camping trailer, basically. I sent for them. A brother-in-law who had graduated from high school went directly into the Korean War. He drove them up as far as Huntington. I went on a bus to Huntington and met them, came back. And as we came onto the Umatilla side, and I said, that's Washington. Well, there was no green and everybody was disappointed. But that's the first impression. I mean, there wasn't a bridge over the river in Umatilla. It was a ferry. So you drove around the horn at Wallula. Things were just really different.
Bauman: So you said you had a trailer. Where was--
Bush: In Pasco on a front yard of an old pioneer home, where Lewis Street crosses 10th. That was the end on Lewis Street at 10th. And from there west was called Indiana. And there was about three homes on there. And it just quit. And roughly across from the present day Pasco School Administration Building, which was a Sears building. Across the street there was where this home was. I mean, things have just—in the whole area—have changed so much.
Bauman: And how long did you live there then?
Bush: Until I was called for housing in Richland, which was six months. That was in June, no air conditioning. And finally got into an apartment building, a one-bedroom before with two little boys that slept in the same crib. It was still, basically, wartime conditions. Weren't any appliances for sale and you had to stand in line to get a refrigerator. It was a different world. But we were young, so we could take it.
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] And was this in Richland then, the apartment?
Bush: No, that was in Pasco. After that trailer, that was only about two weeks. And then we want into this apartment, the one-bedroom. Then we moved next door to a two-bedroom in a five-plex. And then in December, six months later, I got the first--I got a housing call from the housing office in Richland, which sat where the present day police station sits. And the lady offered me—she said, you could have it Saturday. It was a prefab. It had already been worn and pulled out. And I kind of hesitated. I said, I've already got something in Pasco. Well, she said, I could let you have a brand new apartment. That apartment was brand new. It was so clean. My wife, who was very fastidious, she didn't even have to clean cupboards. And the apartments have now been torn down by Kadlec for that newest building. And in fact, this morning I just went by and took a picture of Goethals Street, which is vacated. And it was quite a pleasant move to come out of a trailer into—a non-air-conditioned cinder block building apartment into a nice, brand new apartment with air conditioning, full basement, and close to work. And at that time, my office was downtown in the so-called 700 Area, which is basically where the Federal Building is--where the Bank of America is was the police station. And that's Knight Street, I believe. From there north to Swift, and from Jadwin west to Stevens where the Tastee Freeze was, that was the 700 Area confines. Probably about 22 buildings in there. The original thing prior to computers, everything was manual bookkeeping or accounting with ledgers. And they came out with a McBee Keysort cards, and it was called electronic data processing. It was spaghetti wire with holes in the boards, that type of thing. That building had to be a special airlock building. And that's the Spencer Kenney Building beside the Gesa Building. That building is built especially to house equipment. And they just went from there. And I moved around my office. And after 15 years, I went into what they call operations. I was onsite services, which—did that for 17 years. And that was probably the better part of--second better job that I had, I guess. The transportation and everything, onsite support services. The whole point there. That job took me all over the plant. I established inventories. I took some of the first inventories of construction workers' supplies and tools and shop equipment, rolling stock. My name was Mud. They thought so much of me they gave me a desk in the corner of a big lunchroom. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: So you did work at various places then?
Bush: Yes. Well, yes. My very first location was in North Richland, then called North Richland Camp, where the bus lot was--the maintenance shops. I'm trying to establish a point up there—what's over there today? There's a big sand dune on your left going by the automotive shops, past the bus lot, where the bus lot was. Opposite that sand dune on the other side of Stevens was a bunch of one-story temporary buildings. That was North Richland Camp. And that's where my first accounting job was there for two or three years. I had been there—I came there in June. And in January of '52, had 22 people along in my department that I worked in. I was a junior clerk at that time. Took me four years to get onto the management roles, but I did. But anyhow, in that room they came in there six months later. After I'd only been here six months, AEC, predecessor to the OA. The AEC has taken over more management, more responsibility. So we're going to be laying off a lot of people. I had only been here six months. And so others grabbed straws and went different places. I always said either I was too ignorant or lucky, I don't know what. But I just sat still and it panned out for the better. I didn't get laid off. I moved from there. But I went downtown to the 703 Building, which stood where the Federal Building is now. There's a building to the rear that the city owns called 703. That was the fourth wing. 703 was the frame construction, the three floors. And the later years, they added a fourth wing out of block building. Made it more permanent. That's why it's still standing today. Now, that was my second location. And then I got on the management role in '55, which meant I went exempt and no more pay for overtime. And went out to White Bluffs site—town site, and that's where the minor construction was located. Minor construction, it's the construction people that are specially trained in SWP, radiological construction work, as opposed to run-of-the-mill construction. And they're the ones that had never had any accounting at all for any equipment, supplies, materials or otherwise. And that's where I had the lunchroom office experience. It so happened that they established--I brought an inventory procedure and established that first inventory during a strike. We had to cut government-owned tool boxes. But still, the workers thought they were private. And we had to cut locks in order to take inventory. And then we feared for our lives when they came back. Pretty rough day sometimes.
Bauman: What timeframe would that have been you were out?
Bush: That was 1955 to '56. A couple of years there, and then another person took over from there and I went into budgeting at that point, from accounting to budgeting. And I did that for--until 1963. And then I moved out to the so-called bus lot, which it was. 105 buses and all that. And I was out there for 17 pleasant years, budgeting, billing rate—Because we were the supplier of all plant services. So we had billing rates to the reactors, and the separations, and the fuel prep, and--whoever. The AEC, everything. We billed them, just as if we were like plumbing jobs. And that I enjoyed. That was probably my most productive period. And from similar work to that, I moved over—Let’s see, I was around when the Federal Building was built, but I didn't get into it. That was built in '69. I didn't get down there until 1980. Went down there a couple of years. And then they moved us out to Hanford Square where Battelle Boulevard intersection is. And I was there--I retired from that location in 1977. My wife and I retired the same week. I've been retired 26 years now at the end of this month.
Bauman: Was your wife working at the Hanford Site as well?
Bush: She worked after the kids were grown, like most stay-at-home moms do. She stayed until the daughter was of age, and then she went to work for a credit union, which was the government credit union, which was merged later on with Gesa. But that was an interesting job. They worked two hours a day, three days a week. Because it was all hand done, no mechanization. And then she got a job offer from the department in the central stores and purchasing department. She worked there eight years. In 1986, the income tax law changed a lot of things for all of us, effective in 1987. It meant that partial vesting was--IRS has to rule on all things like that. And that meant that if you had 10 years to vest pensions, once you pass the 50% point, whatever the vesting period is, then you were partially vested. And so she had 8 years out of 10. So she got 80%. But she had only worked eight years, so it wasn't a very large accumulation. Because I got my full. Of course, I'd been here 37 years I think it was, however that works out. 36.
Bauman: I want to go back and ask you—when you were talking earlier about that period in '55, '56 when you were working out at White Bluffs town site. You mentioned radiological construction?
Bush: Oh, that—those construction workers worked under what they called SWP, Special Work Permit, which meant radiological. They had to wear--the clothing was called SWP clothing then. Today, they call it something else. But they worked under those conditions, so therefore they were subject to different rules. Whereas, construction workers on brand new construction weren’t then—they didn't have any of that to contend with. But once a plant went operational, it became radiologically SWP. This is not an anti-union thing. It's just a demonstration of how things were in those days. They had some old buses that--the original buses in town were called Green Hornets. And they were small. They had chrome bars that went right across the middle of your back. And for 35 miles, that was not very comfortable. When they got the newer buses that you see today, like Greyhound has for instance, they relegated those to the construction workers at White Bluffs. Well, since GE guys worked up at White Bluffs, we had to ride those, too. So all the office workers in the warehouse--GE employees rode one bus. The electricians rode another bus. Pipe fitters rode another bus, even though there were only two or three of them. It was really a segmented-type thing. As close to anything radiological that I came to when I conducting one of those physical inventories—we would be out--all of the construction materials were stored outdoors on the ground. I mean, like stainless steel. 308 stainless steel was pretty high-priced stuff. But the sheets were stored outside on pallets. Well, one sheet is worth thousands and thousands of dollars. So we had to lay down on the ground and count the sheets to do the inventory. This one day—the only time I came close to any contamination, we went back and boarded the buses that evening from White Bluffs. And we saw the guys on the dock there chipping with a chisel and hammer. That meant they were chipping out flakes of contamination. So we asked what was going on. They said, well, we're next door to F and H Areas. And F Area had coughed out something they said. And so I said, well, my crew was outside today on the ground. And if they coughed out because all the--some construction workers could drive their cars. That's the only people. Plant operations people all had to ride buses. No parking lots. So anyhow, those cars were all impounded. Had tape around them. They couldn't go home. And some of the guys, they had to take off their shoes, leave them, and be issued safety shoes in lieu of it. And I said, well, we were on the ground, too. So they proceeded to take us all off the bus and surveyed us with a wand. And they only found a few flakes on our back. And so we were allowed to go home. But that's as close as I ever came to getting contaminated. It's still scary.
Bauman: Yeah. Obviously, Hanford, a site where security was prominent--
Bush: Very tight security, yeah. I was telling the young lady here that across the roadway on Stevens, as you near the 300 Area, there was a real wide barricade, probably eight lanes that you had to go through. And everybody had to stop, including buses. And the guard would get on the bus, walk down the aisle, and check every badge. And at that time, AEC had their own security airplanes. That was the purpose of the Richland Airport was for AEC security in the beginning. They had a couple Piper Cub-type airplanes. And one day we're on a bus going out to work in the morning. And all of a sudden, a plane just zoomed on by. Somebody had run the barricade. The plane goes out, lands in front of them, stops them, and that's how they got apprehended. Another incident of security, yeah, that's the subject? Many years later now, after 1963, and I'm in the transportation assignment. Airspace was off limits to all airplanes over Hanford because they had army artillery guarding it in the Cold War and all that. And a private plane had violated the space. And the AEC planes had forced it down. And once they're down, they can't ever take off. So after a week or so, they sent a lowboy trailer out there, loaded the small airplane on it, proceeded to come down what's the highway and now Stevens. And down where Stevens today, 240 and all that intersection is, there was only two lanes on the road then, not six. But at that juncture there, there was a blinking light. And they had to turn right to go to the Richland Airport. And this guy, the truck driver pulling this low-boy, he had never pulled an airplane before. And he didn't allow for that pull. Well, that blinking light clipped off a wing. And then he got time off. It was not really his fault, that pilot in the beginning. But there's a lot of—I guess full of interesting stories like that on security.
Bauman: Great. Did you have special security clearance to work at Hanford at the time?
Bush: Which?
Bauman: Any special security clearance?
Bush: Oh, yeah. I had Q clearance, which there's one higher than that, that's top secret. But Q clearance meant you could go into any and all areas. And because the nature of my job, I had that my whole time I was out there. Once you have it, they would tend not to take it away from you because it's quite expensive investigation to get it in the first place. I might mention something interesting in that regard. When I first came to work in 1951, why, the PSQ is Personnel Security Questionnaire. And it's about 25 pages long. And you had to memorize it, because every five years, you had to update it. Well anyhow, I filled that out, and you give references. And I have, in the Twin Falls area, a farmer that had been a neighbor farmer in Nebraska, where I was born, to my parents. I gave him as a reference because he had known me all my life. And that would be higher points. About a year or two later--I guess probably a year later I had gone back down to Twin Falls to visit the in-laws and I went and saw this farmer, family friend. The first thing he said to me, Bobby, what in the world did you do? [LAUGHTER] The FBI had come out to his farm and piled on the questions. And I hadn't told him ahead of time I'd given a reference. So they really did very, very tight security. It's probably tighter than it was when I was in the Air Corps.
Bauman: You mentioned riding a bus out to work.
Bush: Yeah, everybody rode it, except those few construction workers in that minor construction area. They were permitted their cars. I don't know why, but no one else drove cars on the plant. Everybody rode on the bus. The bus fare was--of course, it was subsidized. It was a plant operation, like anything else is. To make the liability insurance legal, they charged a nickel each way on the bus, which later on got changed to a dollar or something. But many of the years, we'd ride the bus 30, 35, or 40 miles to work for a nickel. The nickel was just to make it legal. From those old green buses, they came up with some--I forget what they're called. More like Greyhound buses. And then in 1963, the year I went out to the transportation, they bought a fleet of Flxibles. And that's F-L-X. There's no E in it. That's the same kind of flat-nosed bus that the bus lines used today. And they were coaches, not buses. They had storage underneath. And so we had quite a suggestion system on the plant. And you would get monetary award or mention. And somebody said, well, instead of running mail carrier cars delivering mail to all the stops on the whole plant, load the mail onto the now available storage bins on these buses. And that was a pretty good suggestion award, monetarily, to somebody. And they did that. Took it out to a central mail station out there, and then dispatched it.
Bauman: You mentioned different contractors you worked for over the years--
Bush: Uh-huh. The story behind that for the record is that General Elec--well, DuPont built the plant. That's who my dad worked for. And GE came in '46, I believe. And they were here until the group I was in--they phased out in groups. I was the last group to go out. [COUGH] Excuse me, in 196--'66. When the GE phased out, they had a dollar a year contract. Like Henry Kaiser and rest of them did during the war, for the good of the country. But they trained an awful lot of people in the infancy field of nuclear engineering. General Electric trained all those people here and then they opened up the turnkey operations in San Jose and Japan. But anyhow, AEC was still AEC at that point. And then, their wise decision--instead of one contractor, they would have nine. And so there were--the reactors was one. Separation plant was another. Fuel preparation at 300 Area was another. The laboratories, which is today basically Battelle. Site services. The company doctors formed a foundation called Hanford Environmental Health Foundation, which is the MDs that gave the annual exams. And the computer end, it was now getting into the infancy of that, computer sciences corps, we had the first contracts on that. So all together, there were nine contractors. And the portion that I was with went to ITT. They bid, came in and bid. I helped conduct tours of the facility for the bidders. Because I knew all about it and knew the ins and outs on some of the monetary parts that their accounting people would have questions on. We'd walk through shops and all that. Well, anyhow, ITT got the site support--site services. And we had that for five years. And austerity set in in the '70s. Well, '70. They said, we got to get site services' budget down to less than $10 million. And it probably was 13 or 14, I don't remember now. So my boss and another analyst, like myself, sequestered--talk about sequester. We sequestered ourselves in the then new Federal Building for about a week. Almost 20 hours a day, whittling and whittling and working on a budget. And there was only one conclusion. We had to cut everything in half. Went through all that sweat. Went up with our president, Tom Leddy, went upstairs to an AEC finance office, presented our whole case. And the man turns around and says, well, it doesn't make any difference, Tom. Your contract's not renewed anyhow. And so now, Atlantic Richfield, an existing contractor for 200 Areas, somehow the separations plant contractor that is an oil company owned, can all of a sudden manage a site service. And so they did absorb us. But politics were still around in those days. And there were three of us analysts. One had got transferred by ITT up to the new line--newly established Distant Early Warning Line from Russia up to Alaska. So that left two of us. And we waited around. We waited around and never got an offer. And they said, no, we can do it all without you. We don't need you. How come it took so many people anyhow? On a Friday afternoon, the man that I did budgets for saw me in a restroom. He said, you got an offer yet? I said, no, no. I'm working under the table with somebody else. Well, he says, if they don't hire you, I'm going to hire you. And so he went downtown, and about 4 o'clock, I got a call from the man that told me they didn't need us. Said they'd been kind of thinking. So I went over Atlantic Richfield under those. [AUDIO CUTS OUT] And so I'm not mad, not knocking—knocking them, that's just the way things were. And then Rockwell came to town. When they laid off everybody on B-2, I'm trying to think of other--in the community, something might be of interest for the history project. Back into the '50s. Those same green buses, they had, oh, four or five of them that ran in town like a modified transit system. I don't think they had that many riders, but it did. And also, the plant buses ran what they called shuttle routes. And those buses went into Richland on probably six routes and drove around the neighborhoods and picked up workers on the three shifts. And that's why up in the ranch house district, there was the bypass you'll see between homes. The pathways that go clear through lots. Blocks were so long that they had to provide a quicker route to the bus stops. Now, those rides were free because they were shuttle buses. When you got out to the bus lot, you paid your nickel, or a pass, whatever it was.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you about accounting in terms of equipment practices. Were there a lot of changes during the time you worked at the Hanford site? Computer technology come in and change things?
Bush: Oh, yeah. For sure. In the beginning, as I mentioned earlier, all accounting was open ledgers and hand posted. Adding machine tapes at the end of the day trying to balance them all out. And we had that until--let's see. 1970s—I think it was 1977, we got our very first taste of it. Every other desk in a group of about 20 people in cost accounting that I was in. There was cost accounting, general accounting, and so on, property management. But anyhow, we had about 20 people. Every other desk had a monitor. Well, they referred to them as a computer. But they were just the monitor. And down at the end of our building was one printer. And everything was on floppy disk. Every program was on a floppy disk. Nothing was built-in because it was just the infancy. The big computers were down in the Federal Building. And a sub-basement below the basement was specially built for that. But back to our office. Across the hall from us, we had two small computers that are--to me, they're about the size of portable sewing machines. And I can't even remember the names of them because they don't exist today but they were the computer locally. So we wanted to run our work order system, we would phone down to the guy down at the other end of the building, insert the floppy disk from work system and wait. Well, I've got somebody's inventory. You have to wait. Because there's only one place to load up down there. So finally, you would put the floppy disk in. And then, you'd run it, which meant it'd run through it and print. But then you'd have to say, now print it. And they got one printer for the whole building. And so it's pretty interesting. Whereas today, I've got a laptop that I can virtually do everything with. But we graduated from hand posted ledgers right into computers. We didn't have anything in between. All of the reports that came out, came out on--referred to as IBM runs because everything was IBM. It was on paper that's about 18 inches wide with all these little perf marks on it to feed it. And you'd get one report and it would be about that thick. It was not that much information, but it's just so much printing. It's even hard to remember after 26 years how antiquated that is compared to today. But prior to that, it wasn't even the PCs. They called everything a PC. Or, was PC compatible. Because prior to that, the only electronic data processing nickname was spaghetti wire. I'm not very conversant in it, but it was some kind of a board that had a bunch of holes in it. They put wires in it and that went to certain things. But all it did was sort things. It didn't actually calculate them.
Bauman: I wanted to ask you a little bit more about the community of Richland. What was that like in the 1950s? I know it was a government--
Bush: In the town? I guess I didn't cover that area. Everything—all houses were owned by government. We rented them. My wife and I and family, we came after the days of free everything. When the coal was free--all the furnaces were coal fed. Some people would convert them later on to oil. But anyhow, they were coal burning. However you got the coal, whether it was government days or you bought the coal from the courtyard, which is down at the end of what's now Wellsian Way. There was a coal yard where that lumber yard is. And that's why those railroad tracks that are abandoned and rundown, that's where the coal cars came in. And I can add something a little bit later about coal cars and the plant. But anyhow, we rented from the government. For example, that brand new apartment that I mentioned moving onto first was a two-bedroom, full basement. Steam heated because--I'll digress a little bit. All the downtown 700 Area, including the Catholic church, central church, the hospital, all 700 Area, including those new apartments, and all downtown shopping area were steam heated by a steam plant, which was located where the back door of the post office is today in that small parking lot. And that one plant furnished steam for everything. Well, back to this new apartment. The steam pipes ran through this full basement. And our kids played—there wasn't any yards. There was just apartments. And they would play in the basement because they were quite small. But they can remember today the pop, pop, pop in those steam pipes. And the rent for that two-bedroom apartment was higher than any other house in town. It was $77 a month. And the reason it was $77 instead of $70 was because it included $7 for electricity. Nobody had electricity meters yet. Even in that new place. So when they did put in electricity meters in all homes later, which had to be—during that time, the year we were there, which is December '51 to December of '52, sometime in that period of time they put the meters in. They took off $7 off the rent because now we're going to pay—and their theory is it was $5 for a one-bedroom place, whatever it was. $7 for a two-bedroom and $10 for a three-bedroom for electricity in those days. And nobody had electric heat, of course. And then, later on they put in water meters. And again, they had to come into your home, invade your home, and put in something. So it was strictly government prior to—well, another—and when I lived in the rental, if something went wrong with the plumbing, they would send out a plumber, but you paid for it, though. But later on when I went to the tall two-story, three-bedroom duplex houses, or called A houses, that was our first house after that apartment. And as I remember, I think the rent was--they had rent districts with low, medium, and high in the more desirable parts of town. And we were on Haupt Street across from uptown district where Hunt Street is and Jefferson Park. And I think our rent for that was like $47 because it was not a brand new apartment. And later on, we—I was on the housing list. And you applied and months or years later, you'd rotate up to move into a nicer place or a different location. But in the meantime, up came an F house, which is a two-story single family, kind of a Cape Cod-looking type of house. And that came up on the housing list. However, the caveat was that you had to cash out the present owner who had made some improvements. He had converted the coal to oil, they put in a clothesline, which nobody had clotheslines, and something else. So cashed him out for—I believe it was $750. And if I do that, I could have it, so I did. We lived in that place for 19 years. Our daughter grew up there and got married out of that home. And that's the only home she ever knew. [LAUGHTER] And we were there until 1977 when the real estate market in Richland was—this is community wide. The housing prices were moving 18% a year, about 1.5% a month. And I thought well, I don't need to be setting still. I mean, if I cash out here, and went on. So we sold that home. I listed it. Earl, my father, was very ill. We were going to Spokane. I listed it. A man came by, looked it out. What were you asking? I said, oh, about 17. He shook his head. And I said, too high? He says, no, 27,000. [LAUGHTER] Just to show you how bad things were. And so it sold right away. What are you going to do now? And I said, well. Would you want to try a mobile home? I know a jewel. And in those days, real estate men did not sell mobile homes. But this couple had bought their first house from him, or something. And it was somebody retiring out of postal, wanted to go back to Montana. Never smoked in it, never had any pets in it, no kids. It was the Cadillac of mobile homes. We were there two years, but that was long enough. Then we moved into the house that I'm still in. I'm widowed now for five years. The house we're in now, we've lived in that longer than in any other place. [LAUGHTER] But the community just has changed so drastically. South Richland. People say today they live in South Richland. We lived in South Richland, which was south of the downtown shopping district to the Yakima Bridge. That was South Richland. What is now South Richland out there was Kennewick Highlands. So it depends on who you're talking to today.
Bauman: Yeah. Do you remember any special community events, parades, any of those sorts of things during the '50s and '60s?
Bush: Community events?
Bauman: Yeah.
Bush: Yep. Back in GE days, they had Atomic Frontier Days. And they were a big thing. Had beauty queens in it, rode in the float, and all that. Down at the—[COUGH] excuse me. For Atomic Frontier Days down at the lower end of Lee Boulevard, which is still the same shape today. They set up booths all on there. And it was a really big event. Before we had the hydro races even. People look back fondly on that. Talking about community, again, my mother, I said, worked for the post office, which—it stood on the corner of Knight Street, where it touches George Washington Way. There's some kind of a lawyer office building there today. And the old post office is the Knights of Columbus building on the bypass highway. But she would have to take the mail and go over to where the Red Lion Motel is today, at the Desert Inn, a frame building, winged out basically the same. And that was referred to as the transient quarters. And that was for upper management that were going through and it wasn't really a public motel, per se. But she would have mail for these big wigs over there. So she would have to go over there and have a badge to even go in the front door of that Desert Inn. Talking about badges, something humorous on that. We didn't wear things around our neck in the beginning because it was like a little pocket-sized bill fold. It was a little black bill that had your pass, your badge in it. And at every building you went into, you just pulled it out, flashed it to the guard. It usually was a lady security employee. There were guards in the building, but the person on the desk was a security clerk. But you'd just automatically—you’d open it like that and flag and put it back in your pocket. Every building you went into. Downtown, 700 Area, that first building I've referred to. One day I went into a restaurant and I just did that automatically [LAUGHTER] because it's just so automatic. Then they graduated to having the thing around your neck. And then also, if you worked in the outer areas, you had to wear a radiation badge in addition to your security badge. There was two types and one of them was a flat. And I don't know the difference. One's for beta and one's for alpha. I don't know. And one of them was a pencil shaped. And that's what they called it. And the other one was a flat badge, which was carried in something around your neck. And in all the areas I worked, and the places I described laying on the ground that happened and all that, my RAMs, they call it, never accumulated in my working life to be a danger. I had some, of course. Everybody does in the background. But I never accumulated to a danger point. There were people, some smart aleck people that would take their badge and hold it over a source at work so they could get some time off. Because if you got--what was the phrase? Anyhow, if they got contaminated, they put them on a beefsteak diet. And they stayed home. And they come every day and took a urine sample and all that stuff. But they had a life of riley. So that was nice. But the guys got canned that did that. But they would purposely expose their pencil so they could stay home.
Bauman: So did all employees have those, either the pencil or--
Bush: Only those that worked in reactor and separations areas, yeah. I mentioned these departments. Actually, the first department is Fuel Preparations Department, FPD. The present—the 300 Area--most of the buildings have now been torn down that you don't even see them there. But the north half roughly was fuels preparation department headed for the reactors. They took uranium and encapsulated it in cans, like can of peas in just so many words. And the south half of that 300 Area was a laboratory area, the predecessor of Battelle. So the fuel was prepared there. And it was machined and canned and sent as nickname slugs to the reactors. Then, the reactors loaded into all those little tubes. And then from the reactors, they come out the backside into those cooling pods and all that. And transported in casks to the 200 Areas, which are the separated area, separations. And the reactor area on the face side was not that dangerous. The 200 Areas only work on what they called the canyons, PUREX and REDOX, and those kind of buildings. But those cells were very, very hot. But you had to be measured no matter where you were. One of our site services was a decontamination laundry, called the laundry. And all clothing--I mentioned to you before SWP. Well, SWP, radiologic exposure employees wore whites. Carpenters and truck drivers and all that that didn't work around reactors wore blues. And so they were sorted. And we had different billing rates for that laundry because the blues only had to be laundered and dried. Whereas the others had to be laundered, dried, and decontaminated, checked in separate washing machines. And then workers wore—in the beginning, wore World War II-style gas masks for our air supply before they invented a moon-type suit. [LAUGHTER] But they wore gas masks. And the mask would come back to this mask station, which was part of the laundry. And they took the masks, and they'd take away the cartridge. They'd put the mask in dishwasher machines, in racks. That's how they would wash them. And then they would get them a new filter and package them up. Sanitize them and package them up like medical supplies would be in. I can't think of any other unusual operation out there like that.
Bauman: I want to change gears just a little bit. President Kennedy visited the site in 1963.
Bush: Yep, 1963.
Bauman: I was wondering--
Bush: When they did that, they let all the schools out. And for the first time, non-workers were allowed to go in cars out there. It was a grand traffic jam, but it was quite a deal. And he landed his Air Force plane up at Moses Lake—at Larsen airbase at Ephrata, whichever you want to call it. And then helicoptered. And of course, like it is today, there were three or four helicopters. And you don't know which one he's on and all that bit. And here, everyone is gathered out the N Reactor area, which is a dual-purpose reactor. They captured the heat from the reactor, put it through a pipe through a fence to the predecessor to Energy Northwest, which was called Whoops. This was a big deal, a dual-purpose reactor. And N stood for new reactor, really. Anyhow, he comes in and they got a low-boy trailer. They fixed up down in the shops where I worked—my office was. And then built a podium just precisely for the President with him emblem and the whole bit. So I was privy to get to see some things like that. But anyhow, that was the stage. And it was a long low-boy, so it accommodated all the senators and all the local—Sam Volpentest, the guy credited with HAMMER, those type of people. Glenn Lee from the Tri-City Herald, you name it. So the helicopter comes in, blows dust over everybody. But anyhow, my wife and kids and all schools were brought out there. And I don't know how many thousand people were out there in the desert. And you could see President Kennedy. He got up on the stage. You get close enough, you could get pictures. Then, that same year in November, he got assassinated. So that was a busy year.
Bauman: Do you remember any other special events with dignitaries like that? Or other--
Bush: Well, I could go way back to World War II. I wasn't here, but I have a family connection on it. All over United States, they had war bond drives for various reasons to help. Build a ship, build an airplane. The one that happened here is not the only one. But they took so much money out of all the paycheck of Hanford workers, which included my dad as a carpenter. And the money they collected bought the B-17 Bomber, which was named Day's Pay. And that bomber—they had a bomber out here, a B-17, so that people could see it, but it wasn't the same one. On the Richland High School wall there's a mural. And that's a rendition by a famous artist of Day's Pay in formation. And so I can say that my parents contributed to that. And that's the story behind that one bomber. Every worker out there, construction or operations, they donated a day's pay.
Bauman: I wonder, what was the most challenging part of your job working at the Hanford site?
Bush: As an accounting person, my most challenging part was learning government-ese. [LAUGHTER] How to deal. And in that vein, that took a long time. But once you learn it, there is a way in the US government, period. As I'm sure there is in certain corporations. Later on, when I mentioned that I went down to the federal building for my--finally got located in that building, there was another fellow and I were old timers in accounting. And that year, they had five college grads, accounting grads come in. They hired five at one time. And they ran them by Marv and I for exposure. This is how things are done. This is how the contacts are. And our basic job was to squire these young fellows around and introduce them to certain counterparts and now DOE. Now, this is how you make appointments with them. This is what you do. This is what you never do. And likewise, with senior management. And it paid off because of those five, all four of them became managers or supervisors, and one of them became my manager within two years. Today, that same man is the comptroller at Savannah River Plant. [LAUGHTER] And so I like to feel that I contributed to them being—partially to them being successful. And so that's a reward. But probably the most difficult thing coming from a private—I worked for Colorado Mill and Elevator, which means I worked at a flour mill district office as a bookkeeper. And that's a small town deal in Twin Falls. To come to work for the government where some of your family despises you because you work for the government, but you had to fight that as well as learn how the government operates.
Bauman: You mentioned earlier, you were talking about coal being used for heat in Richland. You also said you wanted to talk about coal fires going up at the site.
Bush: Oh, what?
Bauman: Coal fires?
Bush: Oh, yeah. Interestingly, the midway power station, substation at midway, is one of the reasons they built Hanford where they did because the Grand Coulee Dam had just been completed and an electricity producer—a major producer. And they put the midway substation down there. That basically was built to furnish huge amounts of power to Hanford, for the reactors, everything. Which in total—because I processed vouchers, I know it was 32 megs. Which today doesn't sound like much, but the whole plant bill was 32 megs when everything was operating. But if the power were interrupted, they had to have a backup. So every area had a huge diesel-powered--like water pumps, where they could pump the water from the river instead of by electrically. They had to be able to pump it because it was critical. Because all the water for the whole plant was taken in at intake water plants near the reactors along the river. The 200 Area water is piped to them in a huge line as raw water until it gets to their place. The backup is these coal-fired steam plants, is what I was trying to say. It got about 30-some cars of coal a day rolled through Richland past the cemetery. In the beginning, the railroad came down from the north, from Vantage area down along the Columbia River. There's a railroad bridge across the river, Beverly I think it is. And it came down to below the 100-B Reactor area. That's where the line ended. And then a plant had its own railway incidentally. It had a 285 mile-long rail line, high line and low line. Then, they built--in 1950, the year before I came, they built the line that we see today that comes from Columbia Center into Richland, by the cemetery. And it ends at the old bus lot area, where that railroad car Columbia Center into Richland, by the cemetery. And it ends at the old bus lot area, where that railroad car rebuilding outfit is now, there is a roundhouse that it's rectangular in shape. But some 30 cars of coal a day came in here to supply because those plants were—they actually operated the steam plants. They didn't start them up from cold. They just ran constantly.
Bauman: I wonder if you could provide sort of an overall assessment of how Hanford was as a place to work. What was it like as a place to work?
Bush: It was a great place for me. I came out of an area that was the agriculturally-oriented. And the Korean War started. Wages were frozen, you weren't going to go anywhere. I came up here and I got a new start, like pioneers did. I visualized that's what farming pioneers did the same thing. And it opened up a whole field for me, a big corporate field. And it's just been a great place to work. And it was not dangerous to me. I'm not afraid to drink the water here. I'm asked by a nephew in Hermiston constantly, how do you drink the water? And I said, well, it comes out of the river. How can it come out of the river and that plume’s out there? There's so many false stories around here. But working at Hanford, I think, by and large, almost all employees would tell you the same thing. It was a great place to work. The pay was decent. Maybe you didn't get rich, but it was decent. It's in a nice area to live in. When we came back in the '50s, or in the '40s, and before that even of course, shopping was pretty much nonexistent. They went to Yakima, or Spokane, or Walla Walla. That I didn’t—we didn't experience that too much by 1951 because by that time, the Uptown shopping district was built. And there was a men's store. And there was four women's stores. Because GE was the prime contractor, there was an appliance dealer that handled GE-Hotpoint appliances. We got employee discounts when we worked for GE. We also got 10% gasoline discount when we worked for Atlantic Richfield Hanford. But we just grew with the times. And it's just such an entirely different area now than it was. Just the world is different, too.
Bauman: Is there anything that I haven't asked you about? Is there anything you would like to talk about that we haven't talked about yet?
Bush: Now really, work-wise at Hanford, I think I’ve pretty well-covered it. I'll repeat myself. My first 15 years was construction engineering accounting, which is an entirely different field than operations accounting. Operations accounting concerns itself with the reactors and separations and the site services that support them. But I learned a lot by working at Hanford. My family, three adult children live here, are retired here. My oldest son went on Medicare this year. [LAUGHTER] And that kind of puts you in your place quickly. But it's been a good enough place that they stayed in the area. And of the six granddaughters, grandchildren, four of them are in the area. And that's kind of characteristic with a lot of the Tri-City families. They stay or come back.
Bauman: Well, Bob, I'd like to thank you very much for coming and talking to us today. I really appreciate it.
Bush: It's been my pleasure.
Northwest Public Television | Buckingham_Steve
Robert Bauman: We're going to go ahead and start if that's all right.
Steve Buckingham: Okay.
Bauman: So if we could start by just having you say your name and spell it for us?
Buckingham: Okay. It's John Stevens Buckingham is the full name, and it's S-T-E-V-E-N-S, B-U-C-K-I-N-G-H-A-M, just like the palace.
Bauman: All right. Thank you. And today's date is November 13 of 2013--
Buckingham: November 13, 19--2013.
Bauman: 2013.
Buckingham: 2013. [LAUGHTER] I'm still in the last century.
Bauman: And my name’s Bob Bauman, and we're doing this interview on the campus of Washington State University Tri-Cities. So if we could start maybe by having you tell us how you came to Hanford, what brought you here, when you arrived?
Buckingham: Okay. Well, first of all, I'm a native Washingtonian. I was born in Seattle, grew up in Pacific County. Went to Washington--graduated from high school in 1941, and went to Washington State College, at that time, in chemical engineering. Well, of course you know the Japanese bombed Pearl Harbor on December 7th of that year. I was able to finish off my first year at Washington State, and came back, the second year, the sophomore year, there were just mobs of people on campus recruiting for military. I tried several of them. I tried to get into the Navy V-12 program, but my eyes were not good enough. But I was able to get into an Air Corps program that they were looking for meteorologists. So I signed up for that. I had to get my dad to give me permission, because I was only 18 at the time. [LAUGHTER] But I was able to finish my sophomore year. I had just begun my freshman, my first semester, and I had just started the semester, my second semester, when I got the call to report to active duty. And the program that I had signed up for was this pre-meteorology program. And actually, it was kind of a neat situation. I was sent to Reed College in Portland, Oregon. And it was a little bit of a cultural shock, coming from a rather conservative Washington State to go to Reed College. We could smoke in classes. We could go up to a girl's room in the dormitory. [LAUGHTER] And they sang rather interesting songs on campus, too. [LAUGHTER] But Reed has very high scholastic standards, and I think the best math professor I ever had, I had at Reed College. But we went--we just had almost normal college classes: math, and physics, and geography. It was an interesting experience. Well, after a year at Reed, and also being in the military--because I think we must have had about--we had, what, two flights of cadets there, and we were all in uniform, of course. And after one year they decided they had enough meteorologists, so most of us were looking around for another program to get into. And I applied to go into communications, because I had a lot of physics background by then, and was accepted in that. They sent me to—oh, gosh, I can't even think. It was North Carolina. It was the first time I'd ever been down to the South, which was another cultural shock. [LAUGHTER] To see separate drinking fountains for black--colored and white. That's where we went through, essentially, Officers Candidate School. But the communications part of it was spent at Yale University in New Haven. That was about—oh, I think that was about six months that I was there going through communication. We had to learn all about radio and communications. But there is where I got my--I was commissioned, then, as a second lieutenant in the Air Corps. And about the time that I--just before I finished there, one of my friends had gone up to Yale University--to Harvard, because they were looking for people to work in radar. Well, why not? [LAUGHTER] So I applied, and was sent up to New Haven--not New Haven, up to Harvard. And there we went through a very intensive training on electronics, getting all the background on electronics. I used to kind of laugh. If you dropped a pencil on the floor went to drop to pick it up, you'd be behind three months. [LAUGHTER] It was really intensive training. And after that training, then they sent--most of us went downtown in Boston and worked on the top floor of a building that overlooked the harbor, developing radar they were working on. And that was really kind of interesting. But that was kind of temporary. That was just to give us some practical experiences. So that--then when that part of the training was over with, they assigned me to the 20th Air Force, which was the big bombers that were getting ready to go to Japan, and sent me to Boca Raton, Florida. And that was kind of another goof-off. We were just--we had to go on training exercises, flight training exercises once a week. So I got to fly all over Florida, all over the Caribbean. [LAUGHTER] Just goof-off things. It's really kind of almost embarrassing, because we'd go fishing and stuff like that on the boat, because they'd always had to send a boat out in case a plane went down in the ocean, and so we could go out on the boat and fish. While I was at Boca Raton, then the Japanese surrendered, and the war was over. Well, what are they going to do with all of us that had been trained? [LAUGHTER] I went out to Albuquerque, New Mexico, and they were bringing B-29s back from overseas. And all we did was remove the radar equipment from B-29s and stash it someplace. Well, I guess they decided they really didn't need us anymore. So I was able to be discharged and get back to the Washington State College to pick up my second semester sophomore year. Well, I had accumulated so many credits in going to these other colleges. So I went and talked to the dean, and he says, well, why don't you just switch to chemistry? Get your degree in chemistry or general, and then come back for a master's degree. Well, I had been on the East Coast for two years, and I did not like it back there. Being a--my mom and dad lived out in Pacific County yet, and I wanted to get home. I had two job offers when I graduated from college. One was in Troy, New York, and the other was here. General Electric was--had on the campus quite a bit of recruiting people, because they were getting ready to develop a new separation process called the REDOX process. And they were looking for people with scientific background, chemistry and so forth, to work there. Well, I grabbed the opportunity, and I arrived here on the 26th of July in 1947. I remember the day. [LAUGHTER] And that was really--it was very interesting, because Richland was--GE was really operating under the old DuPont system yet. It was the organization was still the one that DuPont set up during construction. We were in the technical department. And I was sent out to the 100 Areas, waiting for my clearance to come through, and we were just analyzing the water that went through the piles. And then when my clearance came through, they sent me to the 300 Area where they were developing this new separation process, this REDOX process, and we were doing the analytical control for REDOX process. And that was--of course, the development was using just uranium and other chemicals that didn't have any of the radioactive, really highly radioactive material other than uranium. But it was really very interesting, because a whole new line of metallurgy was being developed there. The metallurgy in—old metallurgy was stuff like smelting, and electrolytic, and stuff like that. Well, the chemical separation process they used out at Hanford was a carrier precipitation process, which did not allow them to recover the uranium. So this is why they were developing this new solvent extraction process, so they could cover both plutonium and uranium simultaneously. That was really quite a remarkable new metallurgical process that they were really developing here at Hanford, because how do you contact organic and aqueous phases, and stuff like that? And what kind of a contact? They had all kinds of ones that they were working with there in the 300 Area, and it was really very interesting. We were doing all the analysis for it. And then I was there maybe a little over a year, and they decided we needed to have a little experience with “real” material. [LAUGHTER] So they sent several of us of to be shift supervisors, out of the 200 Area, and the 222-T and 222-V Plants. That's where we got to work with real material. And it was just another training program. They were still--they had begun construction on the REDOX Plant. And about that time, then there was a little bit of an accident down in Texas, where a ship loaded with ammonium nitrate blew up and practically wiped out the city of Texas City. [LAUGHTER] And that was what we were using as a salting agent in the REDOX process. Well, that set the REDOX process into a big delay. What are you going to do with--we can't use ammonium nitrate. It's just plain too hazardous. They began looking at new salting agents at that time, and it took, oh, maybe six months or so before they finally came up with a new salting agent. Well, we just kind of fiddled around a little bit out in the labs. They were closing the business phosphate process labs. They combined them into just one lab. So several of us just kind of floated around doing other work that was kind of related to the REDOX process. For a while, I was in standards, where we were making radioactive standards they used to control the counting machines and all that kind of stuff. And it was not that interesting. Well, I had an opportunity then to go into an organization that was still there in the old 3706 Building in 300 Area. It was called process chemistry. And they were the ones who were working on the chemistry of the REDOX process. It was just--to me, it was just an absolute perfect fit, because I liked to monkey around with experiments and do research type stuff. And it was a neat bunch of people that we were working with. Some of them I still kind of chortle when I think of some of the stuff they pulled. [LAUGHTER] But I was able to move into that, and I was the third person to move out to 222-S, which was the laboratory for the REDOX process. And that's where we were, for our final laboratory was out there. And I stayed in that most of my working career. I did take a couple years to go over to work on writing the waste management tech manual, because they were--that was another process. We got to work in every new process that came along. We concentrated a lot on the REDOX process, because that was new. And then that chemist down in the Hanford laboratories discovered tributyl phosphate, so that opened up the whole new PUREX process. That had to be developed. And all the chemistry that went in to that development, we worked with. And then they decided they had to do something with the waste, and there was an outfit came in that was going to separate out fission products out of the waste. And we were going to have a big fission product market. Well, we separated out a lot of strontium-90 and cesium-137. And the strontium-90 was all right, because they could use that as a heat source for places where they didn't have much sunshine, deep space probes and so forth. The cesium, unfortunately, the capsule we set someplace leaked, and we had a little bit of embarrassment. That had to be cleaned up. So Isochem had taken--that was when the companies had separated into all these different companies. And the waste management just kind of petered out. We still had waste management we had to do something with. So I continued just working on it, but went back to the process chemistry laboratory. I finally ended up manager there for several years until I retired. But it was a real experience, that's all I've got to say. I feel like I was very fortunate in being able to work with so much new technology. And I think one of the more interesting ones was, we were recovering--out of our waste, we were recovering neptunium-237, and I had set up a small demonstration process in the laboratory. And for three years, I was the total source of neptunium-237 in the whole United States. [LAUGHTER] And that 237, when we first started doing it, we actually would convert the 237 to an oxide, and mix it with aluminum, and make a fuel element out of it that we stuck in B reactor to make plutonium-239. Plutonium-239 is a very unique isotope of plutonium. It is non-fissionable, but if you get a ball of it about the size of a golf ball, it's generating so much heat, it'll actually glow red. So they use it as a heat source for deep space probes. So we were working on snap programs and all this is really fascinating new technology. And I just feel very fortunate that I had been able to have a finger in some of this stuff that's really far out. We were looking--you know that one time they were going to convert that big building next to the FFTF into a facility just to process plutonium-238. That was another program that didn't ever develop. But we kind of had fingers in just an awful lot of stuff over the years. Some of the stuff I kind of laugh about. There was a--they developed silver reactors to remove iodine from our off gases coming out of the plant, because of the iodine contamination. And one of the silver reactors at the PUREX Plant blew up. [LAUGHTER] Well, it was not serious. It was all contained. But we had to try to figure out, why did that darn reactor blow up? Why did they have a reaction in there? And I still remember one of the old chemists, Charlie Pollock. He was the one who was in charge of it. But I still remember him making mixtures and putting it outside the lab door on a hot plate and standing behind the door to see it, was he going to pop? [LAUGHTER] We did an awful lot of innovation like that. It was just really--I think we did have a good time mucking with this stuff. I jokingly say that--every Monday we would have what they called a process meeting where the chemists and the process engineers would get together to discuss what we're going to do this week. And I always said we just got together to see how we're going to screw the plant up this week. [LAUGHTER] There was so much new technology, and every week somebody would come up with a new idea. They were the biggest pilot plants in the world, really. [LAUGHTER] Both the REDOX one and the PUREX one, just developing these processes. The whole--you know, when we first came here, we were living in dormitories. And the men's dormitory was on one side of town, and the women's was on the other side of town. We'd meet in the cafeteria. [LAUGHTER] And I still recall, when we were working shift works, we would gather in the cafeteria after swing shift, and we'd still be in there talking, or doing something with the guys who would come in for breakfast to go to work on day shifts. [LAUGHTER] Graveyard was always hell, because you didn't have time to do anything but sleep and eat. [LAUGHTER] And swing shift was kind of bad because the movie house, the movies didn't start until 4:00, and so we could go to any movies or anything. But it was tolerable. We formed an organization called the dorm club, where we went on--made a lot of camping trips, had a few beer busts. I tell about, I was social chairman for a while, and I found a big bargain on beer, Pioneer Beer. It was made by the breweries that they opened when they were doing construction during the war. It was not very good beer. I think I had five cases hidden under my bed in the dorm for weeks until I got rid of it. [LAUGHTER] But most of us met our spouses at that time. And it was really a unique situation early on in the late 40s and early 50s, because almost all of us had been in the same boat. We had started college. We'd been called into active duty during the war. We'd finished active duty and returned to college to finish our degrees. So we all had had the same type of experiences. Some of them were pretty hairy. In fact, I well remember one of my roommates was telling about being in the Philippines, and sitting on his bunk during one time, and said a big old snake crawled up between his legs. [LAUGHTER] I think I would have been of the roof and never come back down if that had happened to me! [LAUGHTER] But you know we had all had similar experiences, and it was our first time, really, that we were making any money that we could do things with. We could buy cars, and bought cars. So we went on just all sorts of trips. We learned--most of us learned to ski. And those ski trips, that was still was fairly new in the State of Washington. There was a rope tow up in the Blue Mountains at Tollgate. And, oh gosh, I think a season ticket cost $5. [LAUGHTER] And we would—went down, and I think we initiated the chairlift at Timberline, down at Mount Hood. We went to a lot of places just when they were first opening. So, in fact--
Bauman: How long did you live in the dorms, then?
Buckingham: Well, let's see. I lived in the dorms several years, and then an acquaintance was able to get an apartment over on George Washington Way, and he asked if I wanted to share this apartment with him. You had to share. [LAUGHTER] You couldn't just live in one by yourself. So I then lived in that apartment for a couple of years, until I got married. Then we had a B house. [LAUGHTER] And that's where we were living when they began selling Richland out. And we were junior tenants in the B house, and way down on the move list, so there wasn't much chance of getting a decent house. My wife and I bought a lot over in Kennewick. And we didn't have much money, but we had a lot of energy, and we did an awful lot of building our own house. I think--I'm still living in it 54 years later. [LAUGHTER] So—but it's been--Oh, I don't regret a day of the work that we've done here. It's been challenging and interesting. After I retired from full time, I did a lot of part time work. I helped—was declassifying documents and I was a tour director, taking people on tours of Hanford. And I worked at the old Science Center down on the Post Office, before that became CREHST over there, where it is now. And the Visitors Center out at Energy Northwest, I worked there. And the FFDF Visitors Center. So it's been a wonderful life, really. [LAUGHTER] Fun.
Bauman: I wonder, when you arrived in--was it July 26th of 1947? What was your first impression of Richland, or of the place here?
Buckingham: [LAUGHTER] Well! When I graduated from college, when my folks came over to graduate, and we came back through here. And I still remember going on the old highway, looking over, and seeing the stack of the old heating plant that used to be downtown in Richland, and thinking, oh gosh, do I really want to come here? And it was a little different. Of course I had worked in very highly classified stuff during radar during the war. So I was used to the classification. But Richland was really different. You just didn't talk about your work at all. You kind of knew what your buddies did. And there was the separation technology people, there was the pile technology people, the fuel technology people. You kind of knew what they did, but that's all. You didn't really know any details. And you never talked, we never talked about it.
Bauman: You talked about the chemistry of the REDOX process. Could you explain sort of what that means, in terms of REDOX, what the process was?
Buckingham: Yeah. The fuel is dissolved, of course. They take the jackets off with sodium hydroxide, and then you dissolve the fuel in nitric acid. And then they used this solvent, it’s an organic solvent. The stuff we used was Hexone, for what the chemical name is methyl isobutyl ketone, which is a paint thinner. And to make sure that we could extract, this Hexone would extract uranium and plutonium from aqueous phase into this organic phase. Well, you needed to add a salting agent to be able to improve that extraction. These were done in what we called columns. They were packed columns. They used some stuff called Raschig rings, and they were about 40 feet long. The feed would come about the middle of the column. The organic things would come in at the bottom of the column. And then there'd be a scrubbing agent came in up at the top of the column, and that would scrub some of this stuff out. Oh, it was a complicated process. Then we would oxidize the plutonium--or we would reduce the plutonium through a three valence state, and that wouldn't extract. And that was the separation column. And then you'd have to run both of these stuff through similar columns to clean it up. It was—really, it was kind of a marvelous process. It was a whole new metallurgical processing. It was something that hadn't been done, really, until we did here at Hanford. So just developing all these little techniques was quite a chore. And it worked!
Bauman: Then you said you were shift supervisor in the 200 Area?
Buckingham: Yeah, in the laboratories.
Bauman: In the laboratories. So what sort of work did that involve at that point?
Buckingham: Well, that was, then, that process chemistry that we were doing. But whenever there was an upset with the columns, there was all sorts of things, like the columns would occasionally flood, and they would just emulsify, and they couldn't get the organic and the stuff to separate. But why was that happening? And things like that. Sometimes the chemistry would get off a little bit, or we would get a carryover for some reason or other. It just—it worked, and it worked very well. But we were able to recover both the uranium and the plutonium. So we weren't putting uranium out in those old waste tanks. Then, you know, when we developed the PUREX process, we used the tributyl phosphate in a more dilute phase to go back in and recover that uranium we had stored from the old bismuth phosphate separation process. So you name it, we did it! [LAUGHTER] I kind of jokingly say that--you know, when DuPont was building this place, the war manpower boards told them where they could recruit, and they did a lot of recruiting in the South, because that was not highly industrialized. So that's why quite a few Southerners came up here to work. Well, Southerners are rednecks. [LAUGHTER] They can make anything work. And I really, I sincerely think it's a lot of the ability of those people to be able to do things, why this place even succeeded. And when you stop to think that that original construction and everything took place in 14, 16 months, it's just mind boggling.
Bauman: Given the sort of materials you were working with out there, why don't you talk about safety issues? Was safety emphasized quite a bit?
Buckingham: Oh, you betcha. You know, DuPont was a stinker on safety because they made gunpowder. You've heard the story about them getting criticized for making big profits doing gunpowder during World War I. So when they took over the contract here, they said they'd do it for cost plus $1, and they only received $0.80. [LAUGHTER] I think that's kind of an interesting story in itself. But DuPont was really--boy, if you saw something was unsafe, that was corrected right now. You didn't need to continue working in the unsafe condition at all. And I kind of laugh a little bit about. I think we were safer out at the plant than we were in our own homes. We'd have these dumb safety meetings. Once a week you had to go through a safety meeting. Sometimes they were boring as hell. [LAUGHTER] But the other thing was that when we didn't have any accidents for a certain length of time, we'd get a prize. I still have some of the prizes we won over the years. That was another thing. When GE was taking over, we could get GE--we could buy GE products at employee cost. You wouldn't dare buy a frying pan unless it was GE. [LAUGHTER] So there were many little advantages.
Bauman: I wonder, of the different things you worked on at Hanford, what were some of the most challenging aspects of the work you did, and what was some of the most rewarding?
Buckingham: Well, I think one of the most rewarding ones was this neptunium-237. That was really a fun project, because about once a month we'd have to start up this little pilot plant, and you had to run it 24 hours a day for about a week to separate out this 237. That was a very challenging and very rewarding project, because it had a lot of interest. That, and the fact that it was also highly classified. They kept changing the classification, I think every month, you'd have a new name for it. One time it was Palmolive. [LAUGHTER] Let's see, what were some of the others? Birch bark. You never knew what you were supposed to call it from one month to the next, because it was a very high-priority thing. Also, when we had--they begin shipping most of it back to Savannah River, because Savannah River could make the 238 easier than we could here at Hanford. But I would separate out this 237, and I'd have to deliver personally to the mint car. That was the car that took the plutonium down to Los Alamos. I'd have to take that 237 up in a cask and put it on that mint car. [LAUGHTER] So there were a lot of little things like that. Some of the challenges, we had some technical problems over the years that were real problems. Like we had a ruthenium problem out at the REDOX process that was a little bit of a challenge. We spewed some plutonium out on the ground out there. And plutonium is kind of a nasty stuff, because it doesn't absorb. It migrates towards the river fairly fast. So there were a few of those little things that were a bit of a problem. Also, then, during the Cold War, when production was so critical—you know you just didn't shut down for hell or high water. And we were running out of waste storage space. We came up with a way we could treat the waste and make it crib-able, so we could put it just to a crib, an underground crib, like a dry well. And that was kind of a dumb thing to do. [LAUGHTER] But it was necessary, because we had to get plutonium out, somehow or other. And we didn't have waste storage space. It takes too long to build a waste tank. And some of the interesting little things is some of the crushers found that nice salty stuff down in the soil, and we had an awful lot of hot poop spread around in the desert at various places. [LAUGHTER] Some of those challenges were kind of challenging! We didn't get too involved in it, but somebody was getting involved in it, and we always knew who it was.
Bauman: So the situation where you said that you sort of spewed a little bit of plutonium, was that at PUREX? What happened with that situation?
Buckingham: Oh, they were recovering americium from the plutonium down at 234-5, and they had a criticality event down there. That was a very challenging situation. I happened to--the engineer who was in charge of that was a good friend. He was at a Boy Scout—at a heat down along the river, and they went down and got him, and brought him back, so we could do some work out there. But that was really kind of scary. That's the only really serious incident. That and Mr. McCluskey’s, when the glove box blew up in his face. And I always blame the union on that, because the union was being very stubborn about settling the strike, and that's why the column had sat with this acid on it for so long. Then when they started it up, it took off.
Bauman: Are there any other incidents or things that happened during your time working at Hanford that really stand out to you? Humorous things, or serious.
Buckingham: I can't think. I can think of several humorous situations that occurred, particularly when I was a punk kid supervisor out there in the 222-T Plant. We had quite a few women workers out there, and I swear, I think those women used lay awake at night to see how they could embarrass me. [LAUGHTER] And this one—the hot water tank was in the women's restroom, and it had a check valve in it. Well, the toilets were all these pressure-type toilets. And this one woman went in to use the toilet, and the check valve didn't check. She burned her bottom. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Oh, no.
Buckingham: And I had to take her to first aid. And she was not at all hesitant about telling me exactly what had happened in detail. [LAUGHTER] I about died having to write up the accident report! Had employee been instructed on the job?, and stuff like that. [LAUGHTER] But I still chortle about that.
Bauman: Yeah. You talked earlier about how during the peak of the Cold War, there was focus on production, production. At some point, that leveled off, and there was sort of a decreased emphasis on production, and of course, eventually, a shift toward cleanup. But I wonder if that sort of shift away from really high production, how that impacted your work at all? Did that change?
Buckingham: It didn't seem to change it an awful lot. Those are very complicated processes out there. There not just simple processes, and they seem to have a tendency to something always going wrong. Like we had a situation of the columns flooding. And it was detergents that was put in through the Columbia River, up in Spokane and Wenatchee, up above us. Our water treatment system didn't remove this detergent. It was a phosphate detergent, and there it came through with our water purification stuff that we were doing. I think it gave us a bit of a headache for a while, of why there were these columns flooding all the time, and little situations like that. They seemed to come up, they'd crop up at weird times. Or a piece of equipment would fail, and how do we do it. Just—if you ever go out to the area, as you pass the old PUREX Plant, there's a tunnel that comes from the end of the PUREX Plant almost out to the highway, and there's a vent out there. And that tunnel is full of equipment that failed in the PUREX Plant that they shoved it into this tunnel and left it there. That's got to be cleaned up someday.
Bauman: I was going to ask you, President Kennedy came to visit in 1963 to dedicate the N Reactor. Were you present that day? Were you able to see--
Buckingham: Oh, you betcha. They took us—anybody who wanted to go in a bus down to the place where they were going to have the dedication. My wife, and her sister, and my two kids came out. And I don't know how my daughter ever found me in that crowd down there, but she spotted me somehow or other. [LAUGHTER] We were so far back you could hardly see him. But that was the first time they actually allowed people to come on the project, too. So it was really—I think my wife and her sister said they sat for an hour waiting to get through the barricade before they could come out. They were both quite amazed at what they saw when they got out here. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] Right. And as you look back at all your years working at Hanford, how would you assess it as a place to work?
Buckingham: Well, some of the companies were much better to work for than others. I really enjoyed working for General Electric, because that's the company I first came to work for here. And Arco was a good company to work for. Isochem was just kind of iffy. They were very small—and I don't--they didn't quite have their act together yet. Some of the other later companies, I thought were just, nah. That was one of the reasons I quit when I did. I quit a little early. I took retirement at 63, because I just couldn't stand the company that was here at that time. They knew how to build airplanes, but they didn't know how to run a chemical plant. That shouldn't be in here. I hope you edit that out. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: [LAUGHTER] You did talk earlier about some of the technology that you saw. I wonder, are there any other examples? Or you could talk about some of the new technology that you saw develop during this time you were there?
Buckingham: Well, gosh, the technology was moving so fast. You know, they had this Fast Flux test--they built the Fast Flux Test Facility. That was all new technology. And the plutonium recycle reactors—that was all new technology. I'm just amazed at the technology that they were developing here. And it was all developed here. We didn't get a lot of credit for it, unfortunately. [LAUGHTER] And I feel kind of bad about that, because it was the cleverness of the people working here that developed some of this technology. Even up there in that--in what they called the old separation plant, the old bismuth phosphate plant, the design of the equipment in that is just very unique. It was the first time that high-level radiation radioactive material was being handled, and they had to come up with a technique of handling it. There was a crane operator--there was a big long crane that ran the whole length of that 800-foot building. He sat in a lead-lined cab behind a concrete parapet. The only thing he had was optics that he could see down into the cells. And how he could take those--you look into one of those cells down there, and it's like looking into a plate of spaghetti. There's so much junk in it, so much stuff in there, pipes. And all everything that comes in has to come through these connectors. And he, the crane operator, had to know which one he had to take off first to get in, and another one in behind it, or something.
Bauman: Wow.
Buckingham: And just the technology they went through, and the learning process. I don't know how anyone was ever to do it. I've talked to one old engineer that, fortunately enough, I could take on a tour one time. He came out here with DuPont during the early construction, and he worked on quite a bit of it. He was here, and they gave him a special tour. And I happened to be the one who took him around. It was one of the funnest days I had, because he told me all sorts of things about some of the stuff that he had worked on. He had helped design the cask carts that carried the fuel from the reactors up to the separation plants, and he knew the people who would design the connectors for the separation plants, and some of the design on the waste tanks. To me, some of the stuff that they were able to do here, it still just boggles my mind. There was an awful lot of smart people working on this place, that's all I've got to say. A lot smarter than me!
Bauman: One more question. I teach a course on the Cold War, and of course most of my students now were born after the Cold War ended.
Buckingham: [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: You know, I wonder, as someone who worked at a place like Hanford during the peak of the Cold War, what you would say to a young person who would have no memory of the Cold War at all, or much of an understanding, what it was like to work at Hanford?
Buckingham: It was a little scary, because we were surrounded by gun emplacements. And I still remember going home after shift one day, and there was some gun emplacements right at the bottom of the Two East Hill, and they were all raised, like they might be ready, had a warning or something. And you kind of wonder about that. And we went in, we always had to have these--in all of the buildings, we had supplies that we could hole up in case of an attack. And all of us had junk in our cars, an evacuation plan. I know my wife and I did. I had canned goods that I would put in the trunk of the car. And if we were attacked, she was to meet me at a certain places in Yakima, and we were going to head for the Willapa Hills. [LAUGHTER] The Willapa Hills are a very remote part of Pacific county. [LAUGHTER]
Bauman: Wow, so you did have preparations in place in case, because--
Buckingham: Yeah. And some people even built--there were a few bomb shelters built around.
Bauman: Well, is there anything else about your work at Hanford, or your experience there that we haven't talked about yet that you'd like to share?
Buckingham: Oh, gosh, there's so many things that went on. I could sit here and talk probably all afternoon about some of this stuff because new ideas would come up that I can't remember. Well, I can remember shortly after I had gotten into the laboratory down at 3706 Building, one of the women that I was working with, she and I did more uranium analysis in one shift than anybody had ever done. [LAUGHTER] We were very proud of that. We just hit every sample size as perfect. And it was--we just were boiling out uranium analysis like crazy. [LAUGHTER] I can't remember now, but it was--there were little incidences like that that were kind of fun. And for a while the coveralls that they were giving us had pockets on them to take the size. They were colored. And there were some of those women, I tell you. I like women, but I think some of those gals that used to work down there had a warped sense of humor. They loved to grab ahold of these pockets and rip. They'd rip the pockets off! Well, they came up behind me one time and grabbed the pockets, of and ripped, and the pockets didn't come off, but the whole seat came off. [LAUGHTER] That was when I was still single, and embarrassed very easily. And I had gotten a blue sock in with my white underwear. My shorts were blue! [LAUGHTER] Oh, they got such a kick out of my blue underwear! I could have slapped them, though.
Bauman: Oh, that's quite a story. [LAUGHTER]
Buckingham: One of the things that we did, I think we were a lot closer. We worked closely with each other. And we'd have wonderful--we'd call them safety meetings in the tavern. [LAUGHTER] They were just--We'd have a lot--we had a lot of parties. But they don't seem to do that anymore. I don't know why. We were more like a big family, and if anything happened to somebody, like a death in the family, we would all rally around them and do things like that, like families did. And Richland was really a very close little community back then. If anybody got into trouble, boy, you sure knew it.
Bauman: Well, I want to thank you very much for coming in today, and sharing your memories and experiences. I really appreciate it.
Buckingham: Well, I enjoyed doing it, because I think it was a very unique time in history. And I'm afraid that we're beginning to lose that, because my--now, I'm getting to the age where World War II veterans are dying off like flies. [LAUGHTER] So many of my friends have already gone, and it's just a little shocking.
Bauman: Right. Thank you, again, for coming in. I really appreciate it.
Buckingham: You're very welcome. Thank you for asking me.