Allen V. Pinkham, Sr.

Childhood Memories of Fishing at Celilo Falls

MY LIFE HAS BEEN FILLED with pleasant memories of hunting and fishing with my father and brothers, which I can first remember doing as a boy of four or five years of age. All my brothers are older than I am — Albert, Alex, Jr., Alfred, and Alvin; I am the youngest, born January 24, 1938. We have lost our oldest brother Albert, who fished at Celilo for many years prior to the inundation. Our grandfather Johnny Pinkham and father Alex Pinkham also fished there. The family was blessed with four sisters — Audrey, Priscilla, Loretta, and Bernadine. We have lost three, and Loretta is our remaining sister. Our mother was Annette Blackeagle Pinkham.

My father would at times tell me and my brothers of the olden times and ways of our people. He would say things that didn't make sense to me as a young boy but that I came to understand as very important lessons later in life. He would say, "Don't be afraid if you see or feel something you don't understand. You may see what you think is a ghost but is not. You hear a noise and nothing is there. A figure or person appears then is gone." He said, "These are messengers that carry something for you, you may not realize it until later. So don't be afraid."

This is what happened to me as a young boy of about ten years of age in 1948, on the Clearwater River at a place called Cewekte (pronounced sa week tah), my mother's home place. It was well past midnight in June, when summer thunderstorms could occur suddenly. I suddenly awoke to a roaring and thunderous sound and quickly sat upright in my bed. I thought it was thunder and lightning, but it wasn't. The sound soon quit, and there was only silence. I looked out the window. It was dark and silent outside. Even the house was silent and no one moved about. There was no rain or thunder at all, and everyone was sleeping. I thought there was no reason to be afraid, and I went back to sleep. It was later that I came to understand what this sound and silence meant. As I grew up, I would become very accustomed to the sounds of the falls and the sounds of life as the people caught, cooked, and cured the eels and salmon at Celilo.

The person fishing on the left is using a technique known as "roping." These islands could be part of a set of small islands that were just upriver from the S.P. & S. Railway Bridge.

OHS neg., OrHi 90166

During 1949, my brother Alvin and I moved with our father to the Yakama Indian Reservation to start a new life there with our stepmother Elsie Cree. Alvin and I had chosen to be with our father after our parents' divorce. But after a year or two, Alvin went back to Cewekte on the Clearwater River to be with our older sister Audrey. I remained with Elsie and my new stepbrothers and stepsisters on the Yakama reservation, much closer to Celilo Falls. We always had pleasant and happy times camping in the mountains and going to Celilo for salmon and eels.

During the early 1950s, we moved each summer to Celilo Village and camped with my uncle Joe Pinkham and his wife Ida. Uncle Joe also had a large family and children nearly the same age as we were. I paired up with my brother-cousin Wally (Irvin) Pinkham. We went most places together at Celilo. We would go to the islands on cable cars that the fish buyers had set up to buy fish from fishermen working there. We would watch salmon being caught by the dozens as the men fished. This, of course, was when the salmon and steelhead were running at the peak of the season. The air at the falls above Chinook Rock would be filled with three or four salmon jumping at the same time. The Salmon people were gathering to offer themselves to their relatives, the human beings. The men at Chinook Rock would be catching a salmon at nearly every dip of their nets. The men at the hanging scaffolds just below the falls would be catching two or three fish at a time when the fish ran heavy. The men with set nets at Seufert's channel would be catching salmon swept back by the currents every few minutes.

Dipnetters work Albert Brothers Island.

OHS neg., OrHi 65995

Miyó'xot Island (also known as Chiefs Island) was also busy with people working set, dip, and roping dipnets. At miyó'xot Island, there were small whirling back eddies where set nets and scaffolds were placed and smooth clear falls, fifteen to twenty feet long and about one foot deep, where fishermen used a technique known as roping salmon. The roping dipnet is made and used a little differently than the regular dipnet, which has a rounded hoop and is held underwater until the fisherman feels the salmon pulling against the net and pulls it up. The roping dipnet, which has an oval-shaped hoop, is used almost like a lasso, capturing the salmon as it swims close to the surface or jumps into the air and is quickly exposed. The net is flipped over the side of the hoop so that the mesh is not pushed through by the current, which could block the salmon from going through the hoop and being caught.

Wally and I used the cable cars to travel among the many islands, and we fished if there was an opportunity. The island next to Chiefs Island was called Standing Island, and Papoose Island was nearby. Good coordination and a good eye were needed to catch a swiftly moving salmon jumping in the air or rapidly moving up the swift currents. If a large salmon was caught and the net didn't tear, good strength and footing were needed to haul in the salmon. Albert Brothers Island (also known as Whisky Island) was upstream of Standing Island. It was small compared to the other islands but was a good fishing place because fishermen could hide their nets in white water that flowed right next to the island's steep vertical cliffs. A mist was always present, and the men wore raincoats much of the time.

Chinook, the largest salmon caught at Celilo Falls, averaged 30 to 35 pounds, but many were 45 to 55 pounds, and they could be as large as 60 to 70 pounds or more. Spring, summer, and fall runs of Chinook occurred. Coho (silver) salmon averaged about 20 to 25 pounds and sockeye (blueback) salmon about 10 to 12 pounds, as I recall. Eels (lamprey) and cutthroat trout were also present. Steelhead trout, which averaged about 20 pounds, were also available in great numbers. The bluebacks ran during July and August, while the silver and eels ran in the fall with the Chinook. Fish were available to the Indians most of the year. This was a great food source for Indian people, but now it has been gone for fifty years.

Ten years before The Dalles Dam, a government official documented the importance of the Celilo fishery. In a memo dated October 11, 1946, William Brophy, Bureau Indian Affairs Commissioner, wrote of the importance of the Indian fishery at Celilo Falls. Each year, he reported, Indians consumed and sold about 2.5 million pounds of salmon and steelhead, with a wholesale value of about $375 thousand. At other sites in the Columbia River Basin, Indians took an additional 900,000 pounds with a value of $135 thousand. While the total revenue from Columbia River salmon was $6 to $10 million, these numbers show that a very large non-Indian fishery on the lower Columbia has been active for well over sixty years. Brophy concluded that:

Exclusive fishing rights on their reservation were confirmed to the Indians by treaties; access to customary fishing sites off the reservation was assured the Indians by the same treaties. The construction of Grand Coulee Dam and Bonneville Dam has destroyed or diminished Indian salmon fisheries to a great extent already. Any further construction of dams on the Columbia or Snake Rivers would destroy all the salmon runs now passing Celilo Falls, according to competent authority ... Construction of the Dalles Dam will flood Celilo Falls and make impossible any fishing at this most important Indian site.¹

The large channel — also known as Seuferts Channel — flows upward to meet the water from Horseshoe Falls, visible on the far right. The water flows left in the center of this photograph, surrounding Chinook Rock, which looks like a salmon's back and can be seen extending from the upper center to the left-hand side of the image.

Courtesy U.S. Army Corps of Engineers

Another island at Celilo, known as Hobo Island, was down by the railroad bridge that crossed the Columbia River. It could only be accessed by walking down the railroad to a pillar that supported the bridge and had ladder rungs that went down approximately fifty feet to the island. Anyone who did not have a family fishing site could fish on this island, but heavy and dangerous work had to be done there. At the peak of the run, hundreds of pounds of salmon had to be carried up the ladder in gunny sacks. One needed to be a member of the Nez Perce, Warm Springs, Umatilla, or Yakama tribes — or have Indian blood and be married into one of those tribes — to fish there. Those who were not family members could ask for permission to fish at the family fishing sites. Before the white people and the treaties and the reservations, people from other tribes in the Pacific Northwest would fish at Hobo Island after being invited by the fishery's chief. At times when fishing was slow, no permission was needed if the head of family was not available. Most sites were readily shared with people who needed salmon. Our family site was just below miyó'xot Island. As a young boy, I fished at other sites not occupied by anyone at the time.

In another view of the place pictured on the opposite page, scaffolds are seen hanging from miyó'xot (Nez Perce for 'Leaders' or 'Chiefs') Island, where white water made the place excellent for fishing.

OHS neg., OrHi 23555

Because of the treaties, the traditions of Indians changed from the old ways. The 1855 Treaty with the Nez Percés retains rights of Nez Perce tribal members to fish off the reservation at Celilo Falls. The specific language is in Article 3, second paragraph, which states:

The exclusive right of taking fish in all the streams where running through or bordering said reservation is further secured to said Indians; as also the right of taking fish at all usual and accustomed places in common with citizens of the Territory; and of erecting temporary buildings for curing, together with the privilege of hunting, gathering roots and berries, and pasturing their horses and cattle upon open and unclaimed land.²

Every third generation of Ni Mii Puu (Nez Perce) or approximately every hundred years, there is an event or there are circumstances either good or bad that impact the well-being of the Ni Mii Puu nation. March 10, 1957, and the closing of The Dalles Dam gates affected the Ni Mii Puu in a very bad way. The thundering roar of a great river cascading down the falls and rapids at a place called Celilo has now been silent for fifty years.

I have stopped at Celilo over the years, and the silence is a terrible thing to experience. There are no sounds of mothers and grandmothers cooking or washing dishes after a meal that included fresh salmon or eels. No sounds of mothers and daughters cutting salmon and eels to dry for winter storage and use. No sounds of men chopping wood for cooking or smoke-drying at the old village site. No sounds of children running, playing, and shouting at each other. Near where fish were being caught, there are no sounds of nets going into the currents or of fish being clubbed when brought onto the scaffolds and put into fish boxes. I remember hearing a man cursing when he pulled up his net and found a large hole in it where a sturgeon or very large Chinook had escaped through it. He threw his pole and net down with a clatter and started to mend it. Now, there are no sounds of hand cable cars being pulled across to the various islands; their wheels are quiet. The dream I had in 1948 has become a profound reality. Still, all through my lifetime, I have had salmon to eat, whether I've caught them myself or had them given to me.

The Pacific Northwest tribes had one of the best diets available in this part of the world because it included salmon and other fishes. At least 50 percent of our diet consisted of salmon. We also had lean red meat of deer, elk, moose, and buffalo. Roots and berries provided the proper vitamins and fiber, and medicinal herbs and roots gave us cures for our ailments. These are gifts of our Creator, which we all need to care for during our lifetimes on Earth. I believe the spirits still bring messages for us to be vigilant and speak on behalf of all living things on Mother Earth. As we do this duty, future generations shall benefit.

Many times when camped at Celilo, my family, like everyone else there, ate salmon at every meal. We would have fried salmon and fried potatoes for breakfast, then for noon lunch we might have boiled salmon and boiled potatoes. For supper we would have lacamean, which is boiled salmon and dumplings. Sometimes we would have baked salmon. Along with salmon, eels were an important food source at Celilo. One day, our grandmother told Wally and me: "You boys go get some eels; I am getting tired of eating salmon every day." We found a small limb from a tree that was strong enough to tie a treble bait hook to. Then we found a gunny sack to put the eels in and crossed on the cable car to miyó'xot Island. There we went to a place where eels rested by using their mouths to suck onto a rock wall before they challenged the strong currents and falls of the Columbia. We picked them from the wall before they got wise to what we were doing and moved further underneath the falls, where we used the small pole and hook to snag them. Our gunny sack got heavier and heavier as we caught more than enough eels for Grandmother, and we struggled to get them back to her. She chided us a little, saying, "You boys caught too many eels, now we have to eat eels for three or four days!"

THIS IS A STORY TOLD by my brother Albert (Sandy) Pinkham. He was fishing with Virgil Hunt and Boston Lindsey at Celilo, and they made a five-dollar bet on who could catch the biggest Chinook. Well, as time went by, Virgil caught a Chinook that weighed fifty-plus pounds. Then Boston fished in earnest, dipping a net to catch the biggest fish. Boston, barely five feet in height and about one hundred pounds in weight, grew up short on both ends. A large fish hit his net and the fish pulled him to the edge of the scaffold, where his safety rope got taut and kept Boston from going into the white water. He yelled for help, because he couldn't pull the fish in! All Boston could do was hang onto the pole. Sandy went to his assistance and helped pull the fish onto the scaffold. The Chinook weighed in at 61 1/4 pounds, and little Boston won the bet. Indian men have a way of having fun while doing hard work.

I also recall my father Alex and Wap Basset when they were fish buyers for a company in Kelso, Washington. The company put up the cables for the cars to go to various islands, and my dad and Wap would help set them up. One day, Dad said to me, "You come with us." From Celilo Village, we drove to The Dalles, where we boarded a boat with a diesel engine. We approached The Narrows, which is now covered by the back waters several hundred yards above The Dalles Dam. As the boat proceeded up the river, the walls of The Narrows got higher and higher and the current became stronger and swifter. The channel was only a few yards wide, and the boat took up most of the width. The boat slowed its pace, and the rock walls ceased to move. The diesel engine continued its steady thump as it slowed. It just didn't have the energy to overcome the swift current. The captain said that the water was not right, and we would try again later. He slowly backed the boat down the river. The purpose of this trip was to bring a wire cable across to the various islands at Celilo Falls and to begin constructing decks and braces to hang the cables. I will always remember the stalled boat in The Narrows with very high vertical rock walls.

Later, my father told me about the money he kept with him when he and Wap were fish buyers. Dad would buy fish at ten to fifteen cents a pound at Celilo, and the fish company gave him $1,300 to $1,500 for that purpose. This amount was half a year's income for most people at the time and, for some people, a whole year's income. It was a great deal of money to safeguard where no safes or locked doors were available. He kept the cash in a small metal box, which he used for a pillow at night. He often wondered who knew what he had in that box and, as I recall, he never lost any of it.

We stayed at Celilo during the fishing season for about three years. During the early summer months, we picked berries and fruit, then we moved to Celilo in August and September. Before we went back to the Yakama Reservation, we picked huckleberries in the mountains. I never registered for school until well into September and sometimes into October. I realize now that most of my education took place in the mountains or on the rivers.

After graduating from Toppenish High School in 1956 and working as a forest-fire fighter on the western end of the Yakama Indian Reservation during the summer, I joined the U.S. Marines Corps. In March 1957, after I had finished boot camp and infantry training at San Diego, California, I was given leave and returned home to Toppenish. I purchased a bus ticket and traveled through California and Oregon. I arrived late at night in Portland, then boarded a bus early in the morning. The bus proceeded up the Columbia River then crossed to the Washington side, probably at Hood River. As the bus approached and passed The Dalles, I expected to see Celilo Falls and the village where as a boy I had fished and walked about the islands. To my greatest disappointment, there was nothing to be seen there. The water was high and smooth — no village or falls. My heart sank. What is to happen now, I thought, now that there are no fish to be caught at the greatest fishing site for Indians that ever existed. I recalled the many stories that my father told me about how the government violated our treaties and kept us on the lower rungs of the economic ladder. Father would often say, "If only they would leave us alone we could have kept our land and most of our people would not have to be on welfare, because we could be working for ourselves and making a living. They wanted everything. They are greedy people."

The occupation of our country by non-Indians has had a dramatic effect on our lifeways, culture, and tribal economies. After two hundred years, we are still adjusting to the ways of the white man. It was foretold that we would have to do this and adopt new ways to survive. Many of us have done very well, but others are still struggling with trying to find their way through the maze of two cultures. Many of us still hunt, fish, and gather to supplement our incomes, but at times many of these resources are not available because the resource is scarce or may be endangered. Salmon is not available in great numbers as before, and we struggle to catch what we can or what is there.

A fisherman works at Standing Island, a place for dipping, roping, gaffing and, in earlier times, spearing.

OHS neg., bb001691

The river systems are polluted, and so are the salmon and other species. Pollution from radioactivity, pesticides, insecticides, ranching, paper mills, and aluminum plants is a major concern of our people. We have many social and economic ills, but we try to solve these ills on a daily basis. As a tribal nation, the Nez Perce are a strong and proud people, with good hearts that Coyote gave us. Within Nez Perce country, there are many races and colors of people, and we cannot exclude because of this difference of race and color. Good neighbors help one another, and we intend to be good neighbors to everyone. That is all.

This essay is adapted from a talk Allen V. Pinkham, Sr., gave at the "Celilo Stories" conference in The Dalles, Oregon, in March 2007.

Notes

^1. Memo from William Brophy, October 11, 1946, available at http://www.ccrh.org/comm/river/docs/bia.htm (accessed October 2, 2007).

^2. Charles J. Kappler, ed., Indian Affairs: Laws and Treaties, vol. 2 (Washington, D.C.: GPO, 1904), 703.

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