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The Goldendale Sentinel, Goldendale, WA., May 3, 1990, page 2
Includes photograph

NANCY ROSS RECALLS WISHRAM HISTORY
By Rebecca Jacobson

Nancy Ross and the town of Wishram go 'way back.
In fact, her father, George Bunn, was one of the first settlers of what used to be a popular Indian center of trade.
"There might have been a few railroad workers before that," Ross says, "There was one other family here, by the name of Hayes.
It all started when George Bunn, then living in The Dalles, "made a trip up here to see what they were doing, on a horse. He rode back to The Dalles and borrowed $50 and bought shoes, then came back and sold them," she says.
The year was 1910.
Little by little, he added groceries and sundry items.
And he added liniment. The ointment was just a basic medication used to combat skin irritations, but to the Indians who frequented Bunn's store, going into the store to have Bunn rub ointment on them was much like a trip to the barber is now.
They would come into the store to have Bunn rub liniment on them, having decided that he had the magic touch.
He even gave his liniment treatment to the Indian who hanged his wife from the railroad bridge.
The man had gone to court in The Dalles and had been proved innocent, though he admitted to Bunn during a liniment rubbing that he had indeed committed the crime.
But George Bunn was not always been rubbed the wrong way. He had a social life as well. He met Carolyn Everts when Carolyn came to teach school in Wishram. Bunn was on the school board, and the two began dating.
"At that time, when they were going together, the town was so small that when they had a party everyone was invited," Ross notes.
Mrs. Brace changed all that. She was the first person to divide the town at a party, saying her home was too small to fit everybody. "She gave half the town a party on the first Saturday and the second half on the next Saturday," Ross says.
"Several families didn't speak to her after that because they weren't invited to the first party."
Ross remembers not only the parties, but playing with many of the Indian children in the town.
"One Indian boy got pneumonia and died when he was 10. We were all broken-hearted. He was a fine violinist," she recalls.
She remembers Indians coming at all hours of the night to make purchases at her father's store.
"They'd lots of times come ask him to open the door because the fishing was so good they didn't get off till late," she says.
"We never ran out of things to do" in Wishram as children, according to Ross. "A lot of fishing -- salmon, bass, trout - hunting -- deer, quail - photography, bird-watching, mushroom hunting, hiking, rock climbing. . ."
Since Wishram was - and is -- a railroad town, things never lacked for excitement. Just about everyone in town had passes on the railroad, so they and their families could go anywhere in the U.S. free.
"We built a gym, too, Ross say. "And in that we had a roller skating rink and some years we had a theater. We had a lot of dances - I used to look for people who'd lost their false teeth because I knew they'd give me a reward."
It was not uncommon for dancers, mainly those from Goldendale, Ross notes, to get to drinking and dancing and wind up toothless.
Dances were also held at Wishram School, though they were a little more sedate than the adult functions. "We didn't drink at all then," Ross notes.
She remembers the Depression in Wishram, and how nearly 100 people came into town every day begging for food. Her father helped every person who needed his help.
A woman named Mrs. Horne, who was a waitress at one of the two restaurants in town, got a cut in wages during these thin times. So she opened her own restaurant called the Railroad Beanery. Anyone who wanted one could purchase a five- or ten-cent ticket, which were given to the homeless, who could exchange them at the restaurant for a bowl of beans, bread, milk, and maybe a hamburger.
"There were families that rode the rails," remembers Ross. "That's how they got here and that's how they left. There were a lot of hungry people."
The people who actually lived in Wishram didn't fare so badly during the depression. "This town wasn't that bad, because they worked on the railroads and got some pay," she says.
She remembers how the town of Wishram got its name.
When George Bunn moved to the town in 1910, it was called Fallbridge, since it was close to Celilo Falls and the railroad bridge. The town had also been one of the camping spots of Lewis and Clark. When that dynamic duo arrived they were starving, and the story goes that some Indians offered them a fish, which save their lives.
The railroad decided to put up a monument to commemorate the location of their camp, and the top dogs at the railroad office in Minneapolis decided to change the name of the town in the process.
A petition was sent to the town so employees who approved of the idea could sign.
Well, no one signed.
But the railroad company officials decided they knew what was best for the town, and so decided to name it after the tribe who had dominated the area for a long time, "the Wishams."
Somewhere along the line and "R" was mistakenly added to the name, making it "Wishram."
"Indians don't even have an "R" in their language," marvels Ross.
Incidents involving the falls remain in many a memory of those who have lived in Wishram any length of time.
One photographer captured the moment that an Indian boy fell off one of the platforms that were set up for fishing. A fisherman caught a fish - and the boy - in one swoop of his net.
Ross recollects that there was once a brave Portland man who planned to go over the falls in a barrel.
"They took us across the bridge, and we watched that guy go over the falls," Ross shrugs "He lived through it."
Wishram seems to have settled down a lot recently. Though many people still work on the railroads in the town, not quite as many people actually live there now - about 300, estimates Ross.
"The town has always changed," she says. "When the men get 10, 15 years seniority, they often get better-paying jobs (elsewhere). Depends on the people who come in.
"It's kind of interesting. You watch the people, and go."
She able to see quite a bit, since her home sits on top of a cliff in Wishram Heights where she can look out and see Oregon.
But Wishram has settled down. The Native Americans who live there aren't wild like their predecessors, and it's been awhile since anyone has ventured to head over the falls in a barrel.
Ross has seen the changes take place, and while she loves the town that is her home, she can't help hankering a little for the way it used to be.
"It'd be kind of nice if we had some more people here," she says. "I don't want it to be a big town, but I'd like to see someone come in - if we could get some young blood in here with some business smarts…. if I was younger I'd do it myself," she laughs.