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The Yakima Republic, Yakima, WA., March 11, 1957, page 2
Includes photograph titled:

CELILO FALLS was within a few hours of inundation by the backwaters from The Dalles Dam when this picture was taken from bluffs on Oregon side of Columbia River yesterday. U.S. Highway 30, foreground, was a jam of moving and parked cars most of the day. (Staff photo by Sam Churchill)

AGED CELILO FALLS IS HIDDEN FOREVER
By Sam Churchill

CELILO - The massive gates along the powerhouse section of The Dalles Dam closed and choked back the downstream surge of the mighty Columbia River at 10 a.m. Sunday. Six hours later historic Celilo Falls was underwater and hidden from mankind forever.
Thousands of persons, hundreds of them with cameras, watched with awe and mixed emotions as the ancient and storied Indian fishing grounds surrendered to the backwaters of the federal government's newest dam on the Columbia.

Traffic Crawled Along

Traffic on U.S. Highway 30 at Celilo, was slowed to a crawl most of the day. A mile or more of parked cars clung to every available foot of highway shoulder and off-highway parking space.
Power from the 260 million dollar dam's 22 generators will not reach Northwest transmission lines until late this fall. When the big turbines reach full capacity in 1960 they will have an output of 1,119,000 kilowatts.
There will be official ceremonies at the dam next Sunday when Governors Albert Rosellini of Washington and Robert B. Holmes of Oregon are present for the opening of the navigation lock.

Drama Was Yesterday

But the real, the historic drama of The Dalles Dam was yesterday.
It was a day of incredible happenings for most of those who witnessed the passing of Celilo Falls. There was no jubilation or holiday atmosphere. People for the most part seem contended to just wait and watch, quietly and with solemn faces and muffled voices.
One of the incredible memories is the speed with which the backwaters from the dam took over the vast reservoir, piling foot upon foot of navigable waters on top of the river's ancient surface within a few hours.
Another incredible accomplishment was the uncanny accuracy with which the Army engineers predicted the death of Celilo Falls. They said it would be inundated at 4 p.m. and it was.

Little Consolation

But these miracles of science and mathematics were of little consolation to Mrs. Isabel Frank, a 57-year-old Umatilla Indian who lives in The Dalles.
"This is a sad, sad day for us," murmured Mrs. Frank, echoing the thoughts that must have been in the minds and hearts of hundreds of Umatillas, Yakimas and other tribe members whose ancestors had fished at Celilo for generations.
For how many years have the Indians fished at Celilo?
"I don't know," said Mrs. Frank. She reached an arm out the automobile window and pointed toward a low section of land bordering the river at the upper end of the falls. "They have found knives buried there," she said. "Knives made from stone. Some people say they were a thousand or maybe two thousand years old."

Before Christ

You couldn't help but think to yourself: Indians fished here at Celilo Falls before the birth of Christ, using knives fashioned from stone to rip open the giant Chinook salmon flesh from the Pacific Ocean.
"Sometimes I wonder," she mused, "if we are really God's children, too, or if just the white people are."
Mrs. Frank, for as far back as she can remember, had been coming to Celilo Falls at Salmon time. She would come no more.
Eldon Miller is the eight-year-old son of Mr. and Mrs. Howard Millard of Salem, Oregon. Eldon had never seen Celilo Falls and it was see it last Sunday or never. His parents made a special trip up the Columbia River for Eldon's benefit.

"I Love This River"

J.A. Jonasson is a professor of history and geography at Linfield College in McMinnville, Oregon. He has his camera mounted on a tripod and focused on two concrete pillars that were slowly growing shorter as the water climbed. He took pictures at intervals to record the change.
"I love this river," was his explanation of why he drove from McMinnville to Celilo last Sunday. He had been standing and taking pictures of dying Celilo for hours. "History is being made here today," he said softly.

Called Progress

"That is what they call this," was another thing that Mrs. Isabel Frank had said. "They call it progress and I guess we'll have to let it go at that."
Even without closing one of its 23 mighty spillway gates the dam was powerful enough to drown Celilo. By the time the Columbia, pouring its billions of tons of water against the anchored might of this man-made dam had climbed the wall and poured over the spillway, Celilo was doomed.
The time was 2:26 p.m.
When the ponderous spillway gates, measuring 40 feet by 50 feet, and weighing over 50 tons each, are closed this week, the river will rise another 25 feet and Celilo, eight miles away, will be a placid like forever. The mighty Salmon will have to leap its falls no more.