As a bill attempting to remedy California’s ongoing gas price spikes nears a final vote, questions about whether it could jeopardize worker safety have risen to the forefront.

The bill – Assembly Bill X2-1 – would require refineries to keep a to-be-determined minimum amount of gas supply on hand to help smooth out price spikes the state said happen when refineries go down for routine maintenance. The measure cleared the state Assembly earlier this month and the state Senate in a special legislative session last week, passing 23-9. A final vote on the bill, signing off on Senate changes, is expected in the Assembly today.

Those representing unionized workers in refineries argue that the legislation would jeopardize worker safety, and if storage requirements are untenable for refiners, closures and large job loss could follow. At issue is a provision in the bill that would give the California Energy Commission the ability to approve scheduled maintenance for refiners. State officials said this is meant to push refiners to be proactive in their maintenance planning, which, paired with higher reserves of gas supply on hand, would tamp down price spikes for Golden State drivers.

The state and the bill’s authors said current laws governing worker safety are not affected by the bill.

“Let me be clear, ABX2-1 does not prohibit a refinery from conducting important maintenance. Refiners can and should perform the maintenance they need to to keep their workers and facilities safe,” Assemblymember Gregg Hart, a Santa Barbara Democrat and one of the bill’s authors, said at an Oct. 7 state Senate hearing.

The bill’s latest version requires protecting the safety and health of “employees, local communities, and the public” in the process.

The State Building and Construction Trades Council represents many unionized workers employed in refineries. Jeremy Smith, chief of staff for the group, expressed concern that this plan could come at the expense of worker safety. If the state denies a refinery’s planned maintenance, he said, it could lead to “catastrophic breakdowns.”

“Maintenance must be done on a schedule based only on the condition of metals and infrastructure and the lifecycle of equipment such as vessels, pipes and valves,” he said at the hearing.

A worst-case scenario could be an explosion at a refinery, trades council president Chris Hannan told CalMatters. An explosion in 2015 at a Torrance refinery owned by ExxonMobil injured two workers and led to higher gas prices.

State energy commission vice chair Siva Gunda — who was appointed by Gov. Gavin Newsom, convener of the special session and key backer of the legislation — pushed back on such concerns. Not all refineries plan for maintenance the same way, he said, resulting in some having adequate supply for the market while others don’t “because there is no incentive” to keep a higher level of supply. The energy commission identified a 15-day supply of gas as a key point at which gas prices begin to shift.

The finer details of how the state’s plan would work are to be determined through a rulemaking process if the bill is passed. Gunda said the state would examine refiners’ current maintenance protocols during that process to understand if they are working.

“If existing protocols currently work, we will not touch them,” he said.

The state also pointed out that the legislation does not supersede other labor laws, such as Occupational Safety and Health Administration requirements.

“I continue to raise those same concerns that the decisions regarding scheduling of refinery and maintenance should not be left up to bureaucrats.”
— State Sen. Steven Bradford, Democrat from Inglewood

Prior legislation gave the state access to refiners’ data it is currently using to support its argument that the state’s price spikes are driven primarily by short supply during refinery maintenance. State Sen. Steven Bradford, an Inglewood Democrat and chairperson of the Senate special session committee, said he was “encouraged” by provisions in that earlier legislation that require meeting annually with labor representatives through an advisory committee, but noted that the six-person committee has yet to convene because Newsom’s administration hasn’t appointed its members yet.

Bradford previously carried legislation, unsuccessfully, that would have required the state to consult with labor groups about the impact on refinery employees and the communities around the refineries.

“I continue to raise those same concerns that the decisions regarding scheduling of refinery and maintenance should not be left up to bureaucrats, but should be in the hands of the men and women who do this work on a daily basis of operating these complex facilities,” he said at the hearing.

The bill has drawn strong criticism from groups representing the petroleum industry over whether new storage would need to be built to meet the bill’s requirements. The industry said the measure will lead to higher prices. It has also argued that it will need to build more costly storage, but amendments in the Assembly stipulate that the reserve requirements, to be determined by a special committee, cannot be larger than fits in existing tankage.

Chevron, which recently announced it is moving its headquarters to Texas, took the unusual step this week of submitting a letter to the chair of the Assembly Committee on Petroleum and Gasoline Supply contesting what it called “frankly ridiculous claims” of price gouging driving price spikes.

“We will do our part to ensure California consumers are informed about your role in shaping policies making life even more unaffordable,” the company said in the letter.

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CalMatters.org is a nonprofit, nonpartisan media venture explaining California policies and politics.

Carmen (Schuler) Mills was born at home on December 2, 1925 at a time when most rural homes did not have electricity or inside toilets . She grew up during the Great Depression and experienced World War II. She married Ernest Schuler, who served in the US Navy in the South Pacific during the war. After the war, Ernest was stationed at Mare Island Naval Shipyard. The young couple spent a magical two years living in and experiencing the awakening elegance of post war Oakland and San Francisco. Carmen went to modeling school and the style and grooming lessons she learned influenced her lifelong habits of daily taking time to look her best.

The young couple returned to Humboldt County in 1946 to begin a family, and daughters Sandra (Schuler) McColgan and Karen (Schuler) Sauls were born. Carmen lived for 37 years in McKinleyville, where she was very active in the community, served as room mother for both daughters, acted as PTA secretary and reporter, and received an honorary life membership for her service. She was a 4-H leader for many years and was ahead of the times in leading a campaign with the Dow’s Prairie 4-Hers against littering.

Carmen’s other contributions to the community of McKinleyville included involvement in charity fund drives, school librarian, assuming positions as secretary for the Chamber Commerce, McKinleyville Area Planning Committee, and member of the College of the Redwood’s Citizen’s Advisory Committee for the McKinleyville Campus.

Carmen had a love for writing and wrote stories and poems for her daughters which she often illustrated. She also wrote skits for school and 4-H presentations. Carmen returned to Humboldt State and took journalism classes to hone her writing skills and wrote for local newspapers, the Lumberjack at Humboldt State University, and was the McKinleyville correspondent for the Humboldt Times. Carmen’s love for writing and history enabled her to interview and capture stories about the lives of local “old timers” including memories from her own family, the Nortons. These stories were featured in a weekly column in the Arcata Union, “Just Looking Back into McKinleyville’s Past.” Carmen enjoyed opportunities to lecture on McKinleyville history in the local schools.

Other writing accomplishments included a history written about pioneer immigrants George Fredrick and Elizabeth Schuler for the Shasta publication The Covered Wagon.

Carmen had a strong faith in God and lived a positive life and expressed a grateful attitude despite long suffered health issues. She attended First Baptist Church in Arcata and its satellite church in McKinleyville and the Bayside Community Presbyterian Church.

In later life she enjoyed traveling with her second husband Karl Mills, who preceded her in death.

Carmen Mills at 98 outlived most of her family and friends but will be greatly missed by her daughters Sandra McColgan and Karen Sauls and step-son Jeff Mills, her granddaughter Kathryn Sauls-Sparks and husband Joesph Sparks and great-grandson Atticus Sparks, her buddy despite a 90 year old age difference. Other family include nephew Calvin Norton and wife Sue and numerous nieces, and grandnieces and grandnephews.

A special thanks to the Helping Hands Boarding Care Home owners Navgeet Kaur and Harjit Rana who provided such an excellent, clean and safe environment for our mother in the final two years of her life and for all her loving and competent caregivers.

A graveside ceremony for Carmen will be held at Greenwood Cemetery in Arcata on Friday. October 18 at 11 a.m.

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The obituary above was submitted on behalf of Carmen Mills loved ones. The Lost Coast Outpost runs obituaries of Humboldt County residents at no charge. See guidelines here. Email news@lostcoastoutpost.com.

Gary Richard Colegrove Sr. was born on November 6, 1939 and crossed over October 7, 2024. He is preceded in death by his mother Mabel “Mama Mia” and father Alfred “Top Gunner” Colegrove Sr., his siblings, Christopher Colegrove, Alfreda Pratt, Bryan Colegrove, Alfred Colegrove Jr. and Lionel Colegrove. He is survived by, his wife of 61 years, Kathy Colegrove, his children, Kimberly (Robby), Gary (Tonya), and Brandy (Wally), his grandchildren, Tristan (Cameron), Nanya (William), Ellen (Jarod), Andrew (Lexi), Loowyza (Chris), McKenna, Trinity, Alan, Anthony “Bro” and Walter III “Wogs”, and his great-grandchildren, Hayes, Harlowe, Jameson and a new little bundle of love still on their way.

To many, he was known as Geronimo, Angel, Soldier, but to those who loved him most, he was Dad and Papa Gary. He was born in the old Indian Hospital, on the Hoopa Valley Indian Reservation, where he was also raised and attended school. Surrounded by his culture and his people, he was a proud member of the Hupa Tribe with Yurok and Quinault descent. He married the love of his life, Kathy (Lucas) Colegrove, the love birds celebrated 61 years of marriage this year, a testimony to the strength of his love. The love and adornment he had for his children shined through his grandchildren as well, his love never wavered. He had a good heart and was generous to a fault; he was spoiled in love and loved spoiling others, most notably his kids and grandkids. He was always picking up a little something and surprising you with it, whether something reminded him of you or he thought you needed a pick-me-up, he was always thinking of his loved ones. He loved cruising in his red truck with his wife Kathy and his dogs, Papa never left the house without at least one of them. He had a kind-hearted and gentle sense of humor and enjoyed making everyone laugh; you could always find him laughing and smiling with loved ones. He had a special bond with all of his grandchildren, giving them each nicknames that they’ve carried into adulthood, demonstrating his care for them and thoughtfulness. He knew how to make everyone feel special with ease, loving was second nature to him and we are all so honored and blessed to have been loved by him.

Throughout his life he has had many careers; he worked in the logging industry, at Senior Nutrition delivering lunches to elders, and retired at Kima:w Medical Center as Maintenance Supervisor. Each job brought him fulfillment in different ways; he enjoyed working in the woods with the down to earth hardworking souls like himself, or when he delivered lunches to the Seniors of the Hoopa Valley, he had many enriching conversations with elders that he carried with him throughout his life. Oftentimes after his shift he would stop again on his way home for a quick visit to check back in with the elders he had a bond with; he valued and admired all of the time spent with them, listening to and learning their lessons and stories to pass on. At Kima:w Medical Center, as a natural caregiver and genuinely thoughtful person, he used his “Injunuity” and problem solving to take care of everyone’s needs. In each position throughout his life, he made many lifelong friends.

He traveled to many places including Yosemite National Park, Yellowstone National Park, Zion National Park, the Grand Tetons, Mount Rushmore, Crazy Horse Memorial, Grand Canyon, the Skywalk, Monument Valley, Four Corners, Mesa Verde, and went on a cruise ship to Alaska (Ketchikan, Juneau, Skagway, Victoria BC). He has also traveled all over the West Coast from northern Washington and Idaho to San Diego visiting family and enjoying the sights. When he was younger he enjoyed trips to Reno with his wife and Inlaws. They would bring back all the kids a silver dollar as a souvenir; it was always the little thoughtful things like this, he always made sure to do, that reminded you he was thinking of you and loved you even when he was away.

Over the years he created regalia, participated in ceremonial dances and supported the ceremonies. It is with great honor and pride we look forward to watching the regalia he has crafted, dance with the generations to come, knowing the amount of love and good medicine placed into them. Most recently he created a new retirement hobby of making hand split cedar Xontahs’ to include hat racks, key holders, mirrors with key holders and ornaments. He took the time and effort to make sure all of his kids and grandkids had individually crafted pieces for their own homes to cherish for years to come. He enjoyed spending time outdoors, gathering traditional foods and a good drive in the mountains. He was a hunter, fisherman, and adventurer. He had stories for days about his travels and the predicaments he would get into. He loved to camp most summers with his family; he would spend all summer up Box Camp or at the bridge at Pine Creek, driving to work everyday from those locations.

For a short period of time in his childhood he was raised with his grandfather and grandmother and gleaned a wealth of knowledge from them, including the invaluable knowledge of speaking in Hupa and Yurok language, as both grandparents were speakers. Being with his grandparents was a special time in his life, he often shared and spoke the same languages with his kids and grandkids. Along with many other phrases he used daily, he used dongq’a’-tsit, “hold on”, to slow life down and enjoy the moment.

He enjoyed his daily trip off Bald Hill for his fountain pepsi returning home to read the San Francisco Chronicle. He preferred old western movies and the sports channel for the ball-games, olympics, etc. He also enjoyed traveling to ball-games to support his kids or grandkids in whatever sport they were up to at the time, all he needed was his Bepsi and his paper for the road and he’d be sure to show up no matter how far or long you played. He was always our #1 fan in life, in and out of sports, he rooted and supported us more than we could have ever asked for or deserved. He was a movie connoisseur of all genres, in the earlier portion of his retirement, you could find Papa with a bowl of ice cream in front of the flat screen in the sunroom geared up for a movie-marathon, and you were always welcome to join. One of his favorite actors was Chief Dan George, he purchased and watched every movie he could find with him in it. He was fond of the Louis L’Amour novels and old country music. His all time favorite pastime was listening to native singers at ceremonies. He truly enjoyed and appreciated all the singers, just know you made his day.

With a life crafted through these lessons, stories and experiences he gracefully taught his children and grandchildren the ways of the world through the eyes and heart of a kind man. We are eternally grateful and will carry his love with us forever. Gary leaves behind many loved ones; he loved his family, his culture and his community.

Pallbearers: Andrew “Roo” Stephens, Walter “Wogs” Morton III, Alan & Anthony “Bro” Bennett, William Kerr, Jarod Fullerton, Robert Hunter Jr., and Cameron Boyce.

Graveside services were held Saturday October 12, 1 p.m. at the Colegrove Family Cemetery on Pine Creek Rd., Hoopa. 

He truly loved his Hupa community and everything about it, rest in peace Papa.

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The obituary above was submitted on behalf of Gary Colegrove loved ones. The Lost Coast Outpost runs obituaries of Humboldt County residents at no charge. See guidelines here. Email news@lostcoastoutpost.com.

Imagine watching 22% of your entire investment account value vanish in one day.

Read that again. Not a year. Not a month. Not a week. One single day.

Unsettling, isn’t it?

This scenario isn’t hypothetical. It’s what happened to investors whose portfolios were entirely in the Dow Jones Industrial Average on October 19th, 1987. Later this week marks the anniversary of that infamous day: Black Monday.

The $500,000 portfolio you had while you sipping your morning coffee, before using your Aqua Net hairspray to make yourself presentable for the day, would have been worth less than $400,000 during the news with Dan Rather that evening.

Talk about a severe case of the Mondays.

But what if I told you there’s something worse than watching your portfolio’s value plummet by that magnitude?

Much worse.

Imagine selling that day. Reacting to the nausea of that moment by liquidating all your stock investments.

Unfortunately, many who are prone to this kind of behavior are often those who should never do so. Frequently, these investors have years of investing ahead of them, or their heirs have decades of market participation left.

You see, the world didn’t end on Black Monday.

In fact, as the above chart reveals, if investors had held on for just two years, their investable assets would have been worth significantly more than the Friday before that ugly Monday. It would have taken only about a year and a half to get back to even. A year in a bad market feels like dog years, yet in the scope of one investing lifetime, which is often composed over decades, a few years is merely a blip.

Is it easy to hold? No. Does this mean one should never sell? Same answer.

It’s normal human behavior to wonder, when this kind of volatility happens, if it’s different this time. Every investor and context is unique, too, but selling in the worst declines has historically been the worst time to do so. 

Remember that.

And I hate to tell you this, but when a stock market crash happens again, you are probably going to forget.

To paraphrase the famed investor Benjamin Graham: one of the most common problems investors have is amnesia, and they tend to suffer from it at the worst possible time.¹

Don’t.

# # #

Source:

1. Quoted by Wall Street Journal investing columnist Jason Zweig on October 7, 2024. 

Brandon Stockman has been a Wealth Advisor licensed with the Series 7 and 66 since the Great Financial Crisis of 2008. He has the privilege of helping manage accounts throughout the United States and works in the Fortuna office of Johnson Wealth Management. You can sign up for his weekly newsletter on investing and financial education or subscribe to his YouTube channel. Securities and advisory services offered through Prospera Financial Services, Inc. | Member FINRA, SIPC. This should not be considered tax, legal, or investment advice. Past performance is no guarantee of future results.

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PREVIOUSLY: Theo Lengyel, Founding Member of Eureka’s Mr. Bungle, Arrested in Connection With Girlfriend’s Murder

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Theobald “Theo” Lengyel, a founding member of the Eureka-based experimental rock band Mr. Bungle, was convicted Friday of first-degree murder in the killing of his girlfriend Alice “Alyx” Kamakaokalani Herrmann, according to SF Gate.

The Santa Cruz jury deliberated for just one day before handing down the guilty verdict against Lengyel, marking the end of a six-week trial that “took a shocking turn in its fourth week” following the “eleventh-hour discovery of an audio recording on Herrmann’s phone from the night of her death,” the SF Gate reports. Lengyel faces life in prison and is set to be sentenced in November.

Lengyel, who sometimes used the name “Mylo Stone,” was arrested in January after investigators with the Capitola Police Department found Herrmann’s remains in a wooded area within Tilden Regional Park in Berkeley. She was reported missing by family members in December 2023. The SF Gate report includes the following additional information:

The details around Herrmann’s death were initially inferred largely by digital forensics that showed when her watch stopped recording her heartbeat and traffic camera photos showing Lengyel driving Herrmann’s red Toyota Highlander in the East Bay the same night that she was killed. Lengyel buried her body in Berkley’s Tilden Park under a pile of rocks; a piece of rope was found next to her body, which Lengyel said later was a remnant of his failed attempt to hang himself next to her. 

Lengyel was among the Eureka High School students who formed Mr. Bungle in 1985, along with lead singer Mike Patton, who went on to front alt-metal band Faith No More. Lengyel split with the band in 1996 due to “creative differences.”

The second national Week Without Driving just wrapped up, which means that many elected officials, planners, engineers, and community members did their best to not get behind the wheel of a car for seven days. This event highlights the fact that there are many non-drivers in our communities — at least 36,000 people in Humboldt County don’t have a driver’s license — and raises awareness among decision-makers about the need for safe, convenient and dignified mobility options.

Arcata City Councilmember Sarah Schaefer, Humboldt County Association of Governments Executive Director Beth Burks, and Coalition for Responsible Transportation Priorities Executive Director Colin Fiske join the EcoNews Report this week to discuss the needs of non-drivers in Humboldt, and to reflect on experiences participating in the Week Without Driving.

(As told to Pat Dunham.)

In May of 1947 I was living in Fields Landing with my mother and stepfather. I was a busy, happy twelve-year-old child.

We lived close to the whaling station, the only land-based whaling station in the United States at that time, located on the edge of the bay at the end of Railroad Avenue. My stepfather, Irish Miles, worked on the Lynn Ann whaling vessel. The Lynn Ann had been a navy patrol boat but was suitable for its current purpose. The other whaler at Fields Landing was the Dennis Gale. Both seemed to be of similar dimensions, but for reasons unknown to me, the Dennis Gale was more popular.

Shirley Shoup.

I was one of many who would run to the whaling station when the word reached the town that the whale boats were coming in with a catch. It was “something to see.” Just the size of this mammal is hard to comprehend when you are standing nearby. Seeing the teeth or the baleen, or the fin — all marvels seldom visible — suddenly made them part of one’s understanding, not just something from a book or a picture: This was something real, right before your eyes.

Crews of men, most of whom I was acquainted with, had to be summoned and at their stations to begin winching a whale’s huge body up the slip, inch by inch. Steel cables attached to powerful engines were stretched taut, able to snap loose at any moment. When cables broke, they flailed around like string in the wind. I don’t remember hard hats or protective gear, only corked boots and agile, alert men working in tandem to do their job.

The flensers cut long strips from the body with sharp blades attached to long poles. An engine-driven cable was attached to one end of a strip and pulled it away as the flensers cut. It required many hours and much labor to complete the dismantling process and clean the deck for the next whale. Oil and debris were everywhere. It must have been difficult for the workmen to maintain balance while wielding a blade, setting cable, moving meat to the boilers and maintaining vigilance against possible injury. Hoses were spraying water; the boilers were being fired; the noise was deafening. We visitors were allowed on the floor to view the whale before the cutting began, but because of the danger, we were never allowed on the floor after that.

One evening, overhearing Mother and Irish talking about an upcoming whaling excursion of four or five days, I listened intently. It was questionable if a whale might actually be harpooned on this trip; it could be that none would be spotted.

Suddenly, Irish turned to me and asked if I would like to go.

My excitement was unforgettable. “Yes, I would like to go!” I said.

Few, if any, other twelve-year-olds could take part in such an experience. Irish told me not to get too excited, as final permission would have to come from the captain and crew of the Lynn Ann.

It took some time, but eventually an agreement was made. I could go if Mother would accompany me. The thought of a few days at sea, in the safety of a secure ship and familiar crew, was like a dream fulfilled.

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Packing only a camera, warm clothes and a sleeping bag, Mother and I boarded ship at six a.m. on a foggy, windy Wednesday morning. The crew had been aboard since the previous night. The Dennis Gale was already out to sea. We walked the narrow plank from the dock to the deck of the ship and were settled in by 7 a.m. Looking around, we saw ropes and cables strung at random across the deck. Mother told me that we had to be very careful as these were the tools of a working ship and we were, after all, here at our own risk. The rope “railing” encircling the ship didn’t offer much encouragement to linger there very long. There was nothing between me and the ocean waves below except this rope. Below deck, my bunk was a small wooden shelf which was very close to the galley. Food smells were strong and constant. (This bunk would turn out to be the place where I spent most of my time.) Soon the ship came alive and silently moved out of the harbor on Humboldt Bay, bound for the open sea.

A whaling vessel has to be narrower than other ships, a necessity during the chase of these large mammals, erratic in their final battle. It is doubtful that whales have many predators other than man. I am sure this is true of the magnificent, toothed sperm whale, one of the largest species, prized for its abundant precious oil. Mounted on the very tip of the bow on a slender flat platform is the instrument of the whale’s destruction, the harpoon. It appeared to be a long metal shaft about four feet long with a pointed front, anchored to a neatly wound chain which was more than 100 feet long.

The crew consisted of about nine men: the captain, gunner, gunner’s mate, and a cook. The rest of the crew were all mates, one of which was my stepfather, Irish Miles. The gunner’s name, as I recall, was Henry. These men were rugged in appearance, perhaps from many years at sea. All were dressed in similar apparel: a heavy black trench coat, blue jeans, knee boots, and black stocking caps, except for the gunner who wore full rain gear when manning the harpoon. I could see the captain in the wheelhouse and was reassured by this sight that “all was well.”

The water was calm that first sunny day. Porpoises followed closely alongside in our wake as we ventured further and further out to sea. They chattered, reveled, encouraged us to come play with them, and provided constant frolicsome companionship. They were a delight. I soon learned that we could be out seven days or longer, with the goal of capturing four whales!

Awakening the next morning, I began to realize that seasickness was to be my constant companion. The sea had become rough, throwing us about like a cork in a bathtub. I had been on a one-day excursion a month before this event, but the water was relatively calm and it had been an exhilarating experience. I was not prepared for my extreme seasickness on this trip. About all I could manage was to lie on my bunk and hope for the best. No one else seemed to be bothered and I hoped it would soon pass. It didn’t. I lay on my bunk most of the day as the ship cruised on toward its destination of “a sighting.” The crew was relaxed, repairing gear, talking, playing cards, enjoying the clear air of the open sea. I could see only sky and water by now.

On the afternoon of the third day, when we were 120 miles out from land, Mother called for me to come up on deck: the first whale was sighted! It was running through my mind that I couldn’t manage to make it up on deck, but also that this was the real reason I was here, to experience an unusual phenomenon. I had to get up, if I could. I made my way to the deck. The whole ship had come alive. The engines were revved and the pursuit begun in earnest, the crew preparing to harpoon our first whale. The excitement of the moment actually caused me to forget the hold seasickness had on me. The ocean was very rough with whitecaps and deep troughs. Looking out at the rolling sea, I remembered how many times during my seasickness I had wanted to just climb over the rail and disappear into the blackness.

With binoculars in hand, I could see the whale in the far distance. It was a sperm whale, seemingly alone, gracefully arching, dipping and showing a magnificent tail-fin, erect and proud. It would swim in this fashion for several seconds preceding a deep-water dive. Several minutes would then elapse before the whale re-emerged, far removed from the original sighting. It was moving at an unbelievably rapid pace and so were we. Seasickness was completely forgotten at this point.

It seemed hours later that we saw the gunner, Henry, appear suddenly out on the bow, disengaging the harpoon, making it ready for action. This instrument reminded me of a small cannon. The explosive charge is shot into the animal when it is close enough, but not too close. By this time the ocean was crashing on all sides of our boat. Strengthened by the speed of our vessel, waves and spray were engulfing the harpoon and gunner. Henry had firmly strapped himself to something I could not see, so that he would not be thrown overboard. I found it hard to believe he could stay at the gun while being constantly battered by the sea; much of the time he was not even visible to the rest of us. At this point, Henry was alone, separated from the rest of the crew, communication obliterated by the crashing water. I’m sure no one wished to change places with him at this time of danger.

When we drew close enough to see the seemingly insignificant brown eye of this huge mammal, Henry released the harpoon, aiming at the whale’s body while it was in an arching position just preceding a dive. A loud explosion sounded as the harpoon made contact with the whale. The engines were shut off and the “chase” begun. The captain steered to keep up with the whale’s maneuvers in this pursuit, but the gunner’s job was finished. We were tearing around, leaping and bounding all over that rough ocean, staying afloat as the cable was extended to its maximum length. The biggest danger was that the whale would dive deep and come up under the boat. Extreme vigilance was maintained to track the whale, keeping up with it until its exhaustion or death. This can go on for some time depending on the part of the body hit by the harpoon. That whale seemed to carry us all over the ocean before it died.

At the end of the chase, the whale was secured to the side of the boat and the search began for another.

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In the next day and a half we harpooned two more whales. The only time I was not violently seasick was during the harpooning sessions. Unfortunately, I was on board for the duration, whatever that would be: we still had one more whale to kill.

I settled back into my bunk the best I could, moaning and groaning into a fitful sleep. The misery was almost unbearable. I remember mother giving me toast to eat, and saying “you have to keep something in your stomach.” That didn’t make sense to me, as I couldn’t keep anything down.

Suddenly there was a change. Something was different. “What is it?” I asked. Mother told me we were turning back. Turning back? Going home? Could this be true? Mother said it was true.

“What happened?” I said.

“The crew ran out of cigarettes!” Mother exclaimed.

Whatever the reason for it, this was what I needed to hear. We were still a hundred miles or more out to sea and had many more hours of tossing like a cork, but we were actually going home.

By the time we docked at Fields Landing, I had been out five days and four nights. We docked with three whales on the Lynn Ann, a respectable catch. One of my friends was waiting for me to disembark. She said I looked a little “green around the gills.” We weren’t laughing about it. It took a few days for my stomach to feel better and my strength to return.

I had taken a few pictures of the Dennis Gayle with a small Brownie camera while I was on the Lynn Ann. The harpoon stand, their whale, and the dimensions of the vessel are clearly visible.

For me, the trip had been unique in many ways. To have received permission from the captain, the crew and the owner of the Lynn Ann was a gift more remarkable than I realized.

My whaling expedition was the source of several reports during my high school years in Eureka. It didn’t seem that unusual then, but looking back, it certainly was something unique for a child of twelve.

As the years have gone by, I have always felt an element of sadness for these elegant creatures freely roaming the seas, meeting the fate we gave them, but that is the way it was at that time and place.

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The story above is from the Summer 2007 issue of the Humboldt Historian, a journal of the Humboldt County Historical Society. It is reprinted here with permission. The Humboldt County Historical Society is a nonprofit organization devoted to archiving, preserving and sharing Humboldt County’s rich history. You can become a member and receive a year’s worth of new issues of The Humboldt Historian at this link.