World Gone By 9.1

In 1966, Aberdeen Methodists ready to move into new building

75 years ago

Sept. 1, 1941

Grays Harbor labor just rested today. There were no celebrations here to mark Labor Day, and plans for any outdoor excursions were dampened by one of the heaviest September 1 rains in Harbor history.

However, most all Harbor industrial plants and business houses took a holiday with the exception of some fish reduction plants forced to operate to process fish landed yesterday. Mills and plywood plants were idle despite the rush of orders for national defense.

Sept. 2, 1941

• Four Aberdeen barbers were recovering today from hand cramps after taking part Friday in the biggest “barbering bee” in Harbor history. With soldier hair flying thicker’n shrapnel, the four Aberdeen tonsorialists, aided by two Army barbers, turned out 330 G-I (government issue) haircuts in a day.

Appalled at their men’s shaggy mien after two weeks’ maneuvering and unable to send them to town because the regiment’s trucks were at Fort Lewis, camp officers appealed for a corps of Aberdeen clippers.

Jim Wilson, Bob DeWitt, Ernie Pearson and Bob Smith responded.

• Samuel Gentile, 16-year-old Aberdeen youth, left today to study for the priesthood at St. Edwards seminary in Seattle.

He is the third child of Frank Gentile who has elected to follow the ecclesiastical life. One daughter, Frances, now Sister Carmella, is nursing at St. Joseph’s hospital and another, Mary, now Sister Amata, has one more year at the Catholic convent in Everett.

Frank, the patriarch of the family, had worked at St. Mary’s school and the Aberdeen Plywood plant and is now caretaker at St. Joseph’s Hospital.

50 years ago

Sept. 1, 1966

As many as 350 members of the Aberdeen First Methodist Church will file through the doors of the church at Second and I Streets Sunday to hear the Rev. Howard Yoder deliver the last sermon in the building that has served the congregation for over 50 years.

The church and the land under it will be sold and the building razed in the near future while members worship in their beautiful new building one block away.

The church bulletin of May, 27,. 1917, includes this information on the fundraising for the original building — “Bishop Hughes preached two great sermons and there was $3,600 pledged … There are still at least a hundred people in this church who will give something. Better sign one of the cards today and save the pastor the trouble of hunting you up to get your subscription.”

Sept. 2, 1966

That stocky, crew-cut, twinkle-eyed trumpet player who for so many years was one of the main attractions of the Lawrence Welk Show, is now appearing nightly through Sept. 10 at the Ocean Shores Inn.

His name, of course, is Rocky Rockwell, and now he has his own show — a five-piece musical combo.

25 years ago

Sept. 1, 1991

Chuck Knox may not strike many as a gambler, but he’s sought more wild cards in his Seattle tenure than Doc Holliday did in Dodge City poker games.

The Seahawk look remains the same as previous years: a small play offense built around the heavy-duty running of Derek Fenner and John L. Williams and the short passing of Dave Krieg, combined with an above-average defense heavily reliant on sacks and turnovers.

Sept. 2, 1991

After several decades of bitter silence, Centralia, the “town with a secret” is shining its light on one of the American labor movement’s darkest days.

Because of school teachers Ron Breckenridge and Joe Flink children are learning and historians are making official note of an event that until a few years ago was hardly whispered about locally, even as it became the stuff of legend and song elsewhere.

On Nov. 11, 1919, members of the radical Industrial Workers of the World shot dead four young Army veterans who had bolted from an Armistice Day parade to help beat up the “Wobblies” and wreck their union hall in the center of Centralia.

That night, after arranging a power outage, a mob of townspeople dragged Wobbly member Wesley Everest from jail and hanged him from a bridge outside town. Eight of his comrades were convicted in 1920 of second-degree murder and sentenced to 25 years in prison. Members of the lynch mob were never identified.

Compiled from the archives of The Daily World by Karen Barkstrom