Alphonse F. Halfmoon

Celilo as I Knew It

During the early 1990s, Alphonse "Frenchy" Halfmoon was often asked about his experiences fishing at different places in the Columbia Basin, and he began to write down some of his memories and knowledge. The following piece on Celilo is dated March 9, 1991, and is among several such documents that the author wrote and has in his possession.

CELILO VILLAGE IS ALONG the south side of the Columbia where the river drops onto solid basalt bulging rock masses that have been eroded by a flow of water and wind. Water flows into falls and channels with such force that it creates a mist here and there. It flows on through several miles westward and downstream, then out into a big eddy as it makes a southerly turn and levels off at what the French called "The Dalles."

The rough water is always there at different times of the year, as is the noise. The spring runoff has so much force and velocity, rushing past with a tremendous noise and down to a lesser flow as the seasons extend into summer and fall, when the large rock masses are exposed into islands. With the main channel still running deep with a scouring force, the other smaller channels spill over right, left, and north. The power of the passing river is acknowledged by the river people, or Wyams, who live in different villages, large and small.

Celilo Falls has the respect of our people, as within those channels are the salmon — resting, swimming, jumping, fighting to get past the frothy turbulent obstruction that is the only way to the upper reaches where they were spawned. Such instinct has the admiration of our people for what we call Na zogh.^* Others call it a similar name with a different dialect.

The only time to work around the different islands with setting up sites is when the river level drops to expose the fish runs across the river, from the south shore to the north side near Wishram or below the steel railroad bridge. I'll use Bob Parr as an example of the only way to find a good fishing site. Bob's father was Basil Parr, who is an enrolled member of the Confederated Tribes of the Umatilla Indian Reservation (CTUIR). Basil married a Nez Perce tribal member, and he and his family camped on the north side of the river and west of the railroad bridge near Wishram when the salmon runs were in. Basil fished with a seine net brought out by a rowboat and pulled in by a team of horses. Bob was the oldest of Basil's sons and daughters, so was with his father when fishing there.

Using a back set net, the author pulls in a small jack salmon from a scaffold owned by the Skahans. The scaffold is near the mouth of Downes Channel on the Oregon shoreline. Hanging scaffolds are visible in the upper left of the photograph.

Courtesy of Bob Kockl Father Conway, photographer

Bob didn't want to be fishing there like that — seining with a rowboat and team of horses — so he went across the river to the village and met Hugh J. Necessary, who taught him how to make nets, mending them under a new style or technique and faster than what the old net makers used. He learned different ply and weights for the larger fish and mesh sizes for backsets and dipnets. He fished practically all over the different islands to gain experience and to build relationships with the families who dried salmon as well as eels for him to bring back when the season was over and he had to be in school over at Toppenish or at Lapwaii. After Bob found a site on the main channel at the very west end of Papoose Island, Hugh showed him how to drill holes with a star drill and three-pound hammer. There are four islands on the south side of the main channel, which are Albert, Chief, Standing, and then Papoose, right across from Big Island on the north side of the channel.

After drilling a hole down about twenty inches and three inches wide, they set the eyebolts in and fill them with hot liquid sulphur. When it hardens, the eyebolt is there to stay. From it are attached half-inch steel cables, thirty feet long, to hold two four-by-eight stringers that are twelve feet long. From there, the platform is built and secured by cable clamps tightened as tight as one can get them. The frame is dropped over and then the flooring has to be nailed onto the stringers. The flooring had a two-by-four cleat at one end for a foothold when pulling in a net with a fish in it. The pole is thirty-two feet long by one-and-five-eighths of an inch thick, spliced with a tube and screws, and made from two sixteen-foot wooden or aluminum poles. The net hoop is cold-rolled steel three-eighths inches thick and nine feet in circumference. The net is sixteen-ply, double-knotted, four-inch mesh that we bought from Ed Thomas, the net-maker. Hugh J. Necessary was the guy who brought his technology to Celilo in making needles, nets, hoops and made the fishing sites safer by drilling and placing eyebolts in the rock with a rope attached. Bob Parr said that Hugh was the guy who changed the fishing here at Celilo. It was taken for granted that it would always be there.

I had fished on Standing Island with Johnson Chapman, who used Abe Showaway's site or, if Abe was there, Jason Wannasay's site next to Abe's. I was going to work with Bob and, prior to building the scaffold, we needed material. So we went over to Chief Island to fish there, and we met Don Shoemaker, who let us use his equipment and helped us get enough salmon to sell in order to buy the material. This was after World War II, and there were many returning vets there, some dressed in parts of their old army uniforms made from good hard-wearing fabric. We began fishing there, taking turns, and it was work with the main run not yet in.

In between Don's and Bob's turns, I went over to the main channel, which was thundering down and across from Big Island. Chief Island had a long cable car going to and from that island back to the mainland. The cable operator had an engine that pulled the cable car back and forth. When we rode over on it, it stopped about halfway over with four of us riding on it with our feet dangling above the water a couple of feet below. Then he continued on until we were stopped at the tower to unload our gear. That cable car was going back and forth with men riding it with their catch or coming over to fish the sites scattered on the island. When I walked over to the main channel, Don told me to be careful over there.

I pushed the pole in, trying to figure where the salmon would be, and after several times an old guy walked over and motioned to me to come over to where he was. He told me that he was going to tell me a story about that place I was fishing! He said his name was Miller, and he was from across the river by Toppenish. He started by telling me that he had been out looking for some of his family's horses just south of Goldendale and came up on that big hill to look on the hillsides above the river. That was forty years ago, and when he looked down here, he saw white here and there and the river going this way and that. Not finding any horses, he came down near Wishram and saw all the fishing activity going on. People were fishing and salmon were jumping like the main run was in. He found some kin living in the village, went back across the bridge, and turned his horse loose.

The hanging scaffolds to the left were owned by the Goudys, who are Yakama. The open scaffolds on the right were owned by the Georges and Johnleys, of Yakama descent. A salmon run must be in, as working fishermen are on all the scaffolds.

OHS neg., CN 007238

At that time, boats were the only way across to Standing Island, and there was a cable car being built from Standing to Chief island, probably by some guy that Bob Parr knew or by a friend of his. The water was low and eventually Miller got to Chief Island and was looking for a site and was doing just like I was doing. He shoved his pole down to where it was shivering with vibrations until a fish got in his net. He pulled it out, excited about his new find, and then placed his pole up and shoved it downward, thinking he had found a place fishermen had overlooked. The next salmon hit, and the next thing he knew he was underwater.

He went down deep where the water was green and bubbly, and right off he was jolted, hit, pummeled by large salmon driving themselves upstream. He surfaced briefly and sucked in air and was pulled down deep again with salmon hitting him on his legs, back, stomach, chest, and all parts of his body, nearly taking his breath away. He was about to give up, as it seemed hopeless and he was in despair. But, being a determined man, he held on and was pummeled relentlessly. A faster current brought him below the railroad bridge, where the water velocity slowed a bit and washed him near the shore until he felt rock cobble. He crawled out of the water and lay there for awhile. Weak and sore from the salmon beatings, he was breathing the air that felt so good. Not aware of the time or where he was, he prayed to the Great Spirit, thanking Him for his life and for surviving the full strength of the river. He got to his feet and made his way back to the village, where his kin were glad to see him. He told them of his experience as they treated the bruises he had across his body. It took a while to recover.

He then asked me if I wanted a place to fish and said I could fish with him where we have ropes to tie up with, at the scaffolds on the main channel. It was Miller's fishing site, he said. We walked over there, and big eyebolts were set into the basalt rock where they used heavy cable to hang on. I thanked him and went back to where Bob and Don were.

That man survived what few had, and I didn't want to do the same. That's why he told me the story. Both Don and Bob knew about "Miller," as they called him. Those who fall in won't live to regret their mistake, as the river is an immediate threat and will take any person downstream and out of sight and to sudden death. It is that fast.

I lost a friend, Norman La Course, on the Big Island where it flows toward Chief and Papoose islands and across from Miller's scaffolds. Norman fell in a year or so before The Dalles Dam was built and flooded Celilo. Our people don't complain about the loss of life there, because it was a mistake they made, as everyone is warned about the dangers on the river. Being careless is your own fault if you are drinking and not seeing the reality of the character of this river.

After hearing Miller's story, I continued getting ready to make the platform. Joe Pinkham had a cable across to Papoose Island where we were going to fish. He told us that Ike and Joe WakWaks and Ned Comedown had been fishing every night and hauling fish out every day. Percy Brigham had a flat boat near the point in a little inlet and was catching some sturgeon and steelhead but not very many Chinook. Don had ordered a load of lumber to be unloaded near Joe's shoreline tower, which was just underneath the big wall of the canal. Bob, Norman, and I went over to Toppenish with some eels and salmon for Joe George, who married Bob's sister Louise, and they had quite a few children. Don said he'd be fishing where we caught all our salmon that day. Bob had promised salmon to other people, so we delivered it all here and there and sold it for fifty cents a pound. Roy McIntyre sold his for two dollars a pound and told us he'd sell all we could catch, and Bob told him that we owed all the money to Joe Pinkham. While over at Toppenish, Joe George had made a sweat bath ready at Joe Pinkham's sweat house, so we all cleaned up pretty good.

We picked up a couple coils of half-inch cable and clamps and picked up poles below Helmicks Store at the big warehouse next to the tracks. Don Shoemaker, Don Williams, Norman La Course, Bob, and I went up the track under the big concrete wall and brought the material over to Papoose on Joe's cable car. We were constructing a hanging scaffold built to fish with a thirty-foot-long dipnet. Don S. and Bob supervised the framework, starting with the twelve-foot-long, four-by-eight timbers. All of it was rough-cut lumber, un-planed construction-grade red fir. It took all of us to get it all in position down below. Don Shoemaker used a hacksaw to remove the steering wheel from an old car at the junkyard in The Dalles, and he wanted to use the tube to splice two sixteen-foot poles together. A place near the edge of town had a blacksmithing and steel fabrication shop where we bought the ring of cold-rolled steel nine feet long and three-eighths inch thick. It was shaped and ready when we picked it up. Don S. and Bob instructed me to build the fishing pole while Don attached the ring. Six or seven inches of both ends of the ring were dogged onto the sides of the pole. A cross piece extending out to the sides of the ring was tied to the end of the pole and the ring with twine, making the net rigid and strong.

We bought the nets from Ed Thomas, the net-maker. Don S. said he could make more if we needed any, and he bought some linen twine to place in his leather bag, which held his mesh boards and needles. Ed Thomas told us that we would have to beg, steal, or borrow trigger material, as he didn't have any on hand. Don knew someone who made moccasins and got some buckskin from her. Joe Pinkham, a fish buyer, told us, "It looks like you guys are about ready to get going to keep me busy!" He said that Percy hadn't been catching any, as the weather was too clear when he fished at night.

Before we scrambled down the side of the cliff to the scaffold, Bob told us that there was a ledge about four feet below the scaffold and that's why the platform is twelve feet out and over. The floor of the platform was about a foot above the rough water. He demonstrated how to swing the pole over the rock bluff behind and above us, line the pole upriver, and lean forward and down. While demonstrating, he told us, "You'll hit a bump and then push down as far as you can with the top of the pole in your hand just above the floor. When walking toward where the cleat is, start lifting. From that first bump downstream is where you'll catch the fish." He gave a yell and started pulling the pole back hand-over-hand, leaning back to bring in a large salmon. Don S. told us that we would only catch Chinooks here and all big ones.

We caught salmon on practically every dip and took shifts to go eat over at Helmicks Store and café. Mrs. Helmicks, we were told, was from Pendleton and was enrolled at CTUIR. On our way back, we could see the long pole come in and out of sight as it was being worked. When fishing this place, I could feel the pole shiver and vibrate and then a hit that immediately began to move downstream fast, and I had to pull with all my strength to get the fish above water and then pull it over to the scaffold. At times, I was holding onto the end of the pole with my feet planted right next to the two-by-four cleat and, if I had two salmon in the net, I had to almost sit down with my feet against that cleat to get my catch onto the platform. Even before I pulled the salmon in, I could smell the specific odor of a Chinook.

Norman was up on top to prepare our catch to haul over to the mainland on Joe's cable. We'd sell about half to Joe and haul the rest to Toppenish to fill out the orders Bob had there. The three of us left again while the two Dons said that they'd keep fishing. We took our time returning, parked over at George Lucei's place, and walked over to Helmicks. We saw Don Williams's car parked under the concrete canal wall, and the long pole appeared over at the scaffold, so it looked like someone was fishing there. We ate and then went over and saw Jesse Green fishing with Don Williams. Bob thought we'd better check the cable clamps, as Don S. had recommended we double clamp the cable ends for safety reasons. When we got down there, Don Williams said he'd catch just a few more and they'd be gone. Norman went over to Joe Pinkham's to borrow a wrench so we could tighten the clamps as soon as Don and Jesse left, then he came over and passed down a burlap bag with beer in it, which I placed near the fish box that was now full of large salmon.

Jesse had started to bag the fish when Don yelled for help. He was leaning forward, holding onto the pole deep in the water. When Jesse jumped over there, the cables slipped and we all fell in. I was on the back cable, which was still attached to the timber, so I threw a couple sacks of salmon up to Norman to get the weight off. Bob was in the water holding onto a board still nailed to the timber I was on. Don was out of sight but then came up to yell "cut the rope," and Jesse was hanging onto him. Don went under again, and Jesse was standing on his shoulders pulling himself out and over to the cliff. Bob yelled "hold the phone" and got some more rope from Joe. Norman wasn't up on the cliff any more, but Jesse was. I reached Bob with a short cable hanging there, and we climbed out too. Then we pulled Don out, and he was glad to get the rope off from his waist. He looked at Jesse as if to hit him but started laughing. When Norman came back with a rope, we all laughed.

Fishers are active on Little Island, just off the Oregon shore; all are using dipnets. Hanging scaffolds in the background are on Standing Island. From here, fish had to pass upriver either by going over the falls or through Downes Channel, which was to the right of this photograph.

OHS neg., OrHi 25509

Don said, "If you need a drink, let's go over to my car." Joe pulled us across and we sat in Don's car wondering what Don had hooked onto. Bob thought it might have been a sturgeon or maybe two in the net, as Don had pulled in two on one dip but not like this. Norman said he would start a rumor about us all drowning together and we could go back to Toppenish and then come back like angels!

That was the last time we saw Jesse, who had been visiting from Idaho. Don said he'd take their catch and get rid of them and we could put the scaffold together again whenever we were able. We went back over there and pulled out all we could to start over again when we felt like it, but there was no hurry. We were a little apprehensive about rebuilding the scaffold, because now we needed more material, poles, nets, and lots of shackles.

The author fishes on the bottom left, from an open scaffold on the Oregon shoreline, and he is using a back set net owned by Cy Smith, a Nez Perce enrollee. The two open scaffolds to his right, on the north side of Downes Channel, are also using back sets on the Skahan scaffolds. Albert Island is on the top right, with the cable car moving in front of it, and the river's main channel is between it and Chiefs Island, on the left in front of the railroad bridge.

Courtesy of Bob Kockl Father Conway, photographer

The last time we went over to Toppenish, we picked up Charlie Wyman, so we went to use his site. It was below the old fish wheel site in a big hole that faced the railroad bridge. The fish there seemed to be silvers and steelhead and some small sturgeon. The station was a back set with a sixteen-foot rim, and it had to be manned all night. It was a very deep hole with an eddy that flowed against the side of the cliff.

We took turns there, too, so I started about two in the morning. Right off, I heard singing that sounded like it was coming from under the bridge where Kamiah Joe Hayes had his site. The next morning, I was at Helmicks for breakfast and I saw Joe Hayes, Bill Badroads, and others eating there. I told them they must have had some young guys along with women down there doing all the singing! Bob, who called Joe by the nickname "Pampooso," said, "Tell him, Pampooso!" Joe said, "So, you finally heard then, eh?" He then said the voices are from those who drowned, taken by the river. The singing, Joe explained, starts with the young and continues up to the next generation until the adult women come in and then the adult men and all together like a chorus; the wind carries their voices either upstream or downstream from the east and the west. He shook my hand and said, "Now you're one of us, and if we stick here we'll be in that singing too." Don Shoemaker told me that probably all those who are on the river hear the singing all the time. Even now when I think of Celilo, I can imagine the singing; it's something that sticks with you.

I first saw Celilo when we passed through there going to Portland every year during the early 1930s, prior to the Bonneville Dam being built. I'd go with Johnson Chapman and Lloyd Wannasay, who had permission to fish on Abe Showaway's scaffold and on Lloyd's father Jason's scaffold, which were near each other on Standing Island. We'd fish there for enough to fill our families' needs.

At times, Evans Johnson wanted me to help fish off his family's roping scaffold, where the two points from Chief and Standing islands met in swift shallow water and you could see the salmon swimming up and then throw your hoop over them, which at the time was called "roping." You'd bring the fish around to below the scaffold and then lift it out. On the other side was Jobe Charley and Tom Frank's platform. Later on, I could fish from either side with the understanding that the site was theirs and I couldn't invite anyone else, except at Evans's father Charlie's roping scaffold.

Fishing then for commercial purposes was a lot of work and it was smelly with no sanitary facilities around, so it took a lot of persuasion to get me out there. But it was an experience and money could be made if you didn't have a job.

Celilo Village is still there and needs to be upgraded, as it was after the war when the Army Corps of Engineers built houses, shower houses, and drying sheds. Some solution needs to be done and the representatives from Oregon and Washington need to look into why there haven't been any proposals to update the village. It needs a park, homes updated, water, sewer, and waste disposal. Some action must be made and nothing political.

Celilo Village has been there since eons ago, and proof of it is the singing that the people have heard there. Some people dismissed it as the winds causing that phenomenon. But I and others of my generation and older know it's there, and those who drowned are communicating to those living with actual voices that we've all heard.

^* Phonetic spelling for Nac'ó in Nez Perce, and núsux in Sahaptin, meaning 'salmon'.

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