In Search of
Evan Morgan's Steam Powered
Motor Launch,
The Legendary Gwen!
by
Wally Lee Parker
(Part Two)
Reprint
from the December 2017 issue of
the Clayton / Deer Park Historical Society's
newsletter
the Mortarboard.
(All rights reserved by the author.)
… an
underwater artifact …
Clayton/Deer
Park Historical Society member Chuck Stewart, a shoreline resident of Loon
Lake, Washington in the 1950s and early 60s, recalls seeing a large craft
submerged keel down in the shallows near the west shore of Loon Lake. Viewed from the surface, he described it as a
“hull, with no
internal bulkheads. The engine, clearly
visible near the stern, appeared to be an inline 6-cylinder.”
He also noted that the shape of the hull appeared double-ended, meaning
it drew to a point at both ends, rather than having the stern cut off in the
form of a blunt transom. Those
observations are among the bits of evidence that may suggest the actual identity
of a craft most currently believe to have been Evan Morgan’s steamboat Gwen.
Chuck’s
recollections predate a decades-later attempt to move the hull either onshore
or further offshore — depending on the version of the story being told. That attempt is known to have ended with the
boat being resettled in deeper water, further away from the shoreside’s private
boat docks.
Regarding
commonly held opinions, there’s no one currently alive who can be trusted to
know the truth of the drowned boat firsthand.
This means the identification of the craft as the Gwen relies mostly on
oral tradition, which, like most often-told-tales, tends to factually-drift
through generations of retelling. This
would suggest the most trustworthy evidence we’re likely to find is in the form
of documentation recorded during the era in which the now sunken hull was
floating on Loon Lake’s surface. Such
evidence would need to be dateable to the era in question, the first three
decades of the 20th century, and would include
photographs, official records, letters or postcards (if any mentioning the
craft are eventually found in such), and journal and newspaper accounts.
And
lastly, there’s the evidence of the submerged hull itself, which would require
a team of divers descending to the boat’s remains to take measurements,
photographs, and carry out a hands-on inspection.
…
diving into history …
This last spring the C/DPHS obtained several postcards
bearing colorized photographs, circa 1905, of the steam launch Gwen (see part
one of this article for reproductions of those images). Those cards initiated the society’s current
research into the history of the craft.
Adding
to the investigation was a YouTube video of a group of young snorkelers
recording their dive to the still reasonably intact remains of the
artifact. This video appeared to be recent, and suggested we’d find enough of the hull
left to prove useful.
In
early July the subject began to heat up within the C/DPHS, and society member
Mike Reiter sent the following email regarding a possible dive on the sunken
craft.
“I have an old Evinrude Aquanaut — a
gas powered floating hookah — that provides air for two. I dove the Gwen
years ago (at
that point it was still assumed that the craft was in fact the Gwen).
I don’t remember much left of it but the shell.
“The best time to visit it would
probably be later in the summer, when the water level has dropped, and the
light is better for pictures. I have a
waterproof camera. We’d need a boat to
get everything out there.”
All
that considered, Mike added, “It’s doable. I’ll
need to dig the Aquanaut out of the basement and make sure it still runs. It’s been a few years.”
In
reply I sent a list of possible objectives, most unlikely to be accomplishable
in a single dive, but still ...
“You'd need at least two divers —
maybe three if underwater pictures of the other two working would be useful in
the resultant article. The measurements would be from bow to stern, and
the beam and depth of the hull at various points along the length. It
might also be useful to have some idea of the widths of some of the various
planks and so on. Some of our vintage photos show some of the planking,
and it might be possible to compare that with measurements taken from the hull
just to document we're seeing the same boat. If there are any attachment
points for uprights to the once existent overhead canopy, it would be useful to
have the positions of those measured too. Any evidence of the original
mounting for the engine, and exit point of the original propeller shaft, should
such be evident, would be useful. And documenting the location —
especially in relation to the gunwale — of what remains of the original deck
planking would also be useful. I saw one article that suggested the
launch used on Loon Lake had a capacity of 100. Compared to the postcard
photos, that seems excessive. If we have a good set of measurements,
calculating things like the boat's passenger capacity, and comparing that to
any claims we run across, might become possible.
“Can any of this be done? The
boat's not going to be there forever. This might be a singular chance.”
In
late July Mike sent this.
“I talked to my cousin Rick Brodrick
at the (Deer
Park Settler’s Day)
picnic yesterday about diving the Gwen.
He said it sounded like fun.”
Things
continued to simmer throughout August, and then, toward the end of the month,
Mike sent this.
“Roger Krieger said he would haul us
over to the Gwen in his boat. He would
need to launch from Shore Acres or Granite Point since the public access is so
low.”
On
Saturday, September 2nd, Mike sent an email with the
subject line “Gwen
Dive Success!” Mike’s message included still frames lifted
from the GoPro underwater camera’s video.
It also included the two most critical measurements. Mike reported, “Length of the Gwen, about 46
feet. Width at wide point of the beam,
about 12½ feet.”
In
other words, the actual measurement of the submerged craft many assume to be
the remains of Evan Morgan’s Gwen are some 14 feet less than Evan Morgan’s own
description of the boat — “60
feet long, with a 12-foot, two-inch beam” — as reported in March 30, 1901 edition of the Spokane Daily Chronicle.
Early
the next morning I sent the following note to Mike and Rick. “Am I right in interpreting the photo showing the propeller
shaft at the stern of the boat as indicating that the stern draws down to a
point much the same as the bow? I
believe the name for this type of hull construction is ‘double-ended.’ What I’m asking is whether the stern ends
abruptly in a transom, as most power boats tend to do.”
Rick
Brodrick replied, “Definitely
double-ended. No flat transom.”
Mike
pointed out an extra hazard that made shooting video near the rear of the hull
more difficult. “Rick got wound up in some fishing
line back there and had to get his pocket knife out.”
Rick
Brodrick estimated the depth of the craft as “15 to 20 feet.” And it’s resting
place as “somewhere
between 30 and 50 feet from the ends of the docks.”
He cautioned that all those figures are rough estimates.
As
for the positioning of the settled craft, Mike stated, “I can’t say the boat is laying
perfectly east to west, but the bow is pointing westward. The hull does have a bit of a list to it,
leaning slightly on its right or starboard side.”
To
that Rick added, “I’d
say less than 20° of list, but I’m only relying on memory and guesstimates.”
The
length of the sunken hull — compared to Evan Morgan’s 1901 statement — along
with the data from Washington State’s Eleventh Biennial Report (published 1918) that states “the only steamboat” licensed to operate “on the lake” in 1916 “received serious damage” during the winter of 1916, “destroying the hull beyond the
possibility of repair,”
strongly suggests that the hull Mike and Rick dived on was not Evan Morgan’s
Gwen.
… if
not the Gwen, then what …
Below are two pieces of evidence, both of which we’re
going to assume are more or less correct.
According
to the article outlining the original Gwen’s ongoing construction — the one
appearing in the March 30, 1901 edition of the Spokane Daily Chronicle — the Gwen was to be “60 feet long, with a 12-foot,
two-inch beam,”
and “fitted
with a 10-horsepower engine and boiler.” That phrasing — “engine and boiler” — along with subsequent articles
and documents, leave no doubt that the Gwen’s motor, at least through 1916 —
the winter during which we believe the craft was destroyed — was a steam
engine. But Chuck Stewart, during at
least several trips to the Moose Bay wreck site in the late 1950s and early
‘60s, reported being able to see the boat’s engine from the surface, describing
it as “clearly
visible near the stern.” He stated said engine “appeared to be an inline 6-cylinder,” with the implication that such was
a gasoline engine.
As
to Evan Morgan’s above pronouncement regarding the Gwen’s 60-foot length, our
dive team placed a tape measure on Loon Lake’s submerged artifact and came up
with 46 feet — 14 feet short of 1901’s stated length.
As
for the engine, one of the often-told-tales associated with the Gwen states
that somewhere in its later history it was converted from steam to gasoline.
In
order to offer an alternative explanation, we first have to consider a Spokane
newspaper clipping from the 1980s, the era during which the boat was moved
further into the lake, that quotes the owner of the dock closest to the drowned
boat, Bert Mills, as saying the boat was rested in “about 9 feet of water” before being disturbed At times of maximum water clarity, would a
multi-cylinder engine resting in the bottom of an open boat at that depth have
been visible from the surface of the lake?
If so, and if the people observing this engine believe the submerged
vessel was the steam powered Gwen, wouldn’t the natural assumption be that at
some point the original steam engine had been replaced with something more
modern?
Just
a thought.
Assuming
the wreck isn’t Evan Morgan’s Gwen, it leaves us wondering what people have
been looking at and diving down to all these years. And there’s one strong possibility.
… in
search of the Loon …
On March 16th,
1922, under the headline “New
Launch to Ply Loon Lake,”
the following appeared on the front page of the Deer Park Union.
“Evan Morgan, with the assistance of
Frank Strandberg, expects to start work soon on the construction of a 65-foot
launch to be used on Loon Lake this year.
The boat will be called the ‘Loon,’ and will be docked at Morgan
Park. Gasoline will furnish power to the
30-inch propeller. The boat will have a
12-foot beam and a draft of three feet.
Built of cedar planking, with white oak ribs, it will be equipped with
government inspected life preservers, one for each passenger.”
The
first thought that comes to mind is that the above described Loon is much too
long to be the obviously shorter hull found in Loon Lake. But if you stop here, you’re going to miss
the point.
The
March 16th article continues, “The launch will be built with an
idea to safety rather than speed and will be used to transfer campers and their
luggage to different points on the lake as well as to furnish pleasure trips
for those who desire to so use it.
“Since the old steamer ‘Gwen’ was
abandoned several years ago, there has been no excursion boat on the lake, and
it is expected the launch will become popular this season. Mr. Strandberg will have charge of the launch
of Sundays and holidays. The keel will
be laid as soon as weather conditions permit.”
Several
things to note in the above paragraph.
First, it states the Gwen was “abandoned several years ago.”
It doesn’t specifically state, as some often-told-tales suggest, that it
was burned along with the original Morgan Park pavilion in the fire of late December
1918. Nor does it state that it sank
somewhere on the lake. It simply says “abandoned.”
The “several
years ago”
is also potentially significant, in that my Random House Dictionary — the big
one — defines “several” as “more than two, but fewer than many.”
“More
than two”
would push us back to 1920 at the very least, and we know that no powered
vessels registered to carry passengers were operating on Loon Lake from 1917
through 1920.
It’s
also important to note that the Loon’s keel had yet to be laid when Mr. Morgan
announced his plan for a 65-foot boat.
Another
Union article, this one appearing on May
25th, states in part, “The big boat being built for
passenger service on the lake is nearing completion, but will not be ready
until, perhaps, the middle of June.” No other specifics
regarding the craft were given at that time.
Said specifics were reserved for the June 8th edition of Deer Park’s paper,
where, under the heading “New
Motorboat Launched,”
a modified version of the Loon was described.
“The new motorboat, which has been
under construction at Loon Lake this spring under the direction of Evan Morgan,
was expected to be launched yesterday.
“The boat is 50 feet long and 12
feet (of)
beam. It will be equipped with a 40-horsepower
motor and is expected to make ten miles an hour in its trips about the
lake. It will carry 50 passengers
comfortably and will be equipped with life-preservers to minimize every
possible danger.”
And
one last notation, this one in the Union’s
June 29th issue, said, “The Loon, the big passenger boat
operated by Frank Strandberg on Loon Lake, was in dry dock temporarily over the
weekend to permit the propeller being lowered and a canopy to be built over the
deck.”
Even
though the newspaper reduced the length of the Loon from 65 feet to 50 feet by
the time of launch, this still doesn’t match the 46 feet the C/DPHS dive team’s
tape measure obtained. With the
understanding that the several paragraphs to follow are pure speculation, here
are a couple of possibilities.
One
thing noted about newspaper articles during the Gwen’s era was that they were
often submitted by “special
correspondents.” Such articles were often used as
announcements of various events, projects, or ventures of a commercial
nature. As such they were often strongly
promotional in tone — tending to play somewhat loosely with the facts of the
situation. It could well be that the
stated length of the Loon had been rounded up to 50 feet, from the somewhat
less impressive 46 or 48 feet — the 48 feet to be explained later.
There
also the possibility that the measurements recorded prior to the sinking of
Loon Lake’s abandoned craft including features no longer present on the hull —
features such as a bow extension in the form of an ornamental spar, or perhaps
a propeller or rudder management system extending aft of the hull proper.
We
know the original Gwen had a small, gunwale-level extension at the stern — such
being clearly visible in photos of the craft.
This deck extension likely added several more feet to the length of the
boat. Several of these photos also
suggest a rod or bar extended straight down into the water from the aft most
portion of said extension. A search of
boat designs indicate that the propeller would commonly be mounted either under
or behind the stern of the craft. And
the ship’s steering rudder would be mounted behind the propeller to directly
line up with the propwash. If so, it’s
probable that the descending bar has something to do with an assembly
stabilizing either or both the propeller shaft and rudder.
The
above is, of course, guesswork.
Underwater
images obtained by Mike and Rick clearly show the propeller shaft exiting
beneath the end of the Moose Bay wreck. At this time, we have no hint at where or how
a rudder may have been attached. Nor do
we have any way of knowing whether a rudder assembly was part of the
measurement reported in the July 8th,
1922 Tribune.
Which is to say, Rick and Mike only measured the existent wooden hull.
We
currently have no documentation on the gasoline launch Loon other than the Tribune articles quoted above. But we do have a report submitted to the Loon
Lake Historical Society in September of 1990 by long time Loon Lake resident
Glenn Biddle (1921 — 2000) regarding the submerged artifact. As for how Mr. Biddle acquired this
information, his father, Joe Biddle (1884 — 1954), who founded Loon Lake’s
Granite Point Resort in 1921 — the year of Glenn’s birth. And then Glenn and his wife, Betty, took over
operation of said resort in 1948.
About
the now drowned boat Glenn wrote, “In 1926 it split and has been here ever since.”
That’s the only reference so far located suggesting when the Moose Bay
artifact sank. Why the craft went down at that specific location on the lake’s
western shore, that part of Mr. Biddle’s story isn’t clear.
Glenn’s
report would seem to be part of his family’s oral history, a part he’s trying
to recall from one or more retellings by his elders. That’s a reasonable conclusion considering
Glenn would have been around five years old the year the craft reportedly sank.
…
“satisfactory character of the boats” …
If Loon Lake’s sunken craft is Evan Morgan’s Loon, it may
be the only surviving example of Mr. Morgan’s boat building expertise. Regarding such expertise, we have the
following announcement from the April 10th,
1915 edition of the Colville
Examiner.
“Evan Morgan & Sons, of Loon
Lake, are adding to the established industries of the county a boat
factory. Mr. Morgan has been building
boats for 18 years, and the long life and satisfactory character of the boats
have encouraged the further effort to supply this part of the country.”
We’ve
no idea how hands-on Evan Morgan might have been with these various boat
building projects. From the above it
appears he, or at least his employees, began utilizing the art of boatbuilding
in the late 1890s. At that time there
were probably many craftsmen scattered throughout the United States and Canada
able to scratch-build even large wooden boats.
Roads, where available, were often primitive, and large-span bridges
over waterways relatively rare. Which
suggest that water transportation, by necessity, was still common. And in most cases the only practical means of
introducing a difficult or impossible-to-portage-overland boat into a stretch
of river or into a lake was to build it onsite — just as both the Gwen and Loon
were built onsite.
All
that said, we know Mr. Morgan had a hand of some sort in constructing both the
Gwen and the later Loon. If the
submerged artifact is the Loon, an even more detailed examination than Mike and
Rick had time to give it might give us insights into Mr. Morgan’s approach to
boat construction.
…
raising the artifact …
The Loon Lake Historical Society has in its archive the
scanned copy of a newspaper clipping describing an attempt to recover the
remains of the submerged boat. Lower on
the page containing the reproduced clipping is the handprinted notation, “Spokane newspaper story, 1980s.”
That’s the only clue we currently have to the article’s date or source.
Still
under copyright, the article, under the byline John Craig, outlines an attempt
to raise the remains of the drowned artifact, apparently with the intention of
donating it to the “Loon
Lake Museum”
for display, or perhaps even restoration as a functioning tour boat.
The
article stated the above Loon Lake Museum was in the process of “being set up” by Al and Karolyn Burrell.
The
clipping reported that five divers from Spokane — the two named being Mark
Ibach and Donita Simons — raised the hull of the “48-foot steam powered launch” to the surface.
The
boat’s name, as stated in the article, was the Gwen II. And the source of that name was Evan Morgan’s
granddaughter, Gail Kreuzberger. Her
account suggested that the Gwen II was launched “about 1919,” to serve as a replacement for
the original Gwen. Gail said the first
and “larger” Gwen had been destroyed by
fire. The official State of Washington
steamboat inspection report for the 1917/1918 biennial appears to disagree with
this — indicating instead that Loon Lake’s solitary commercial passenger launch
was destroyed by ice, but not by being crushed from the outside. Rather the report states water, due to the
dereliction of the caretaker, had been allowed to accumulate within the hull
while the boat was beached for the winter.
Said water froze, breaking the hull apart. This occurred during the winter of 1916. The destruction by fire of Evan Morgan’s Loon
Lake pavilion and all save one of the boats housed in the pavilion’s lower
level boathouse in late December 1918, is probably the germ of those tales
attributing the Gwen’s demise to fire.
Gail
stated she was born in 1919, suggesting her recollections of events in the
first half of the 1920s should in large be considered hearsay. Regarding such hearsay, Craig’s article
states that Mrs. Kreuzberger recalled a “disagreement” regarding whether the Gwen II was drowned as the result of
an accident or was deliberately “scuttled”
— deliberately sunk. That was likely a
recollection of a conversation between her elders overheard in later years.
Glenn Biddle’s
recollection, as preserved in the Loon Lake Historical Society’s archive,
suggests that the artifact settled into the lake in 1926 when “it split.” This does little to clarify
either the means or mechanism of the craft’s demise. But his statement does mesh well with Mrs.
Kreuzberger’s belief, as recorded in John Craig’s article, that the sinking —
accidental or deliberate — occurred in the latter half of the 1920s.
Just
keep in mind that if this boat did sink in 1926, we’re currently looking backward
at least 91 years. Though it’s possible
both Mrs. Kreuzberger and Mr. Biddle do recall bits of images of the second
excursion boat, the context of such images often become quite jumbled over the
years.
Another
question naturally arising from John Craig’s article is why the craft, having
been successfully brought to the lake’s surface by the Spokane dive team, was
then released — this time in deeper water — rather than being drawn up on the
shore as was originally intended.
…
re-sinking the artifact …
Mr. Craig’s article outlines the several levels of
controversy that resulted in the boat being re-sunk. Several Loon Lake residents went on the
record in opposition to removing the boat from the lake. Moose Bay resident Gary McKinney noted how
much enjoyment the wreck provided divers — enjoyment that would be lost if the
boat were beached. A resident of the
lake’s opposite shore, Karen Meyer, pointed out that the sunken boat was “part of the history of the lake.”
Karen’s commitment to the lake’s history was subsequently demonstrated
by her many years of volunteer work with the Loon Lake Historical Society.
On
the other hand, not everyone would have been sorry to see the boat go. Since the craft was only a dozen or so feet
from the end of the docks and rested in just a stated nine feet of water, the
traffic the relic drew tended to create both an annoyance and hazard to nearby
residents and their families — especially to the children playing in the water
around the ends of docks.
According
to John Craig’s article, those wanting the boat left alone contacted the
Washington State Department of Ecology.
The department’s representative suggested the divers would need permits
from three state agencies — Ecology, Wildlife, and Natural Resources — to move
the object. Everything considered, the
representative thought it best the group re-sink the vessel until everything
had been straightened out.
To
address the longstanding concerns of local property owners, and any possible
legal jeopardy, one day after being raised to the surface the boat was
maneuvered further away from the docks, and over deeper water allowed once
again to settle to the bottom.
The
actual result of the dive team’s attempt to do no further damage while
addressing some local concerns appears to have been more grumbles from both
sides of the issue. Those considering
the boat a hazard suggested it hadn’t been moved far enough away from the
docks. Those considering the boat an
historical and recreational landmark complained that after re-sinking to a
greater depth the hull was more difficult for snorkelers to explore, and the
curious to see from the surface. With
such dissatisfaction evenly shared, the boat resumed its long slumber.
… some
parting thoughts …
When starting this line of research, most of the
society’s membership either believed or dearly wanted Loon Lake’s submerged
craft to be the remains of Evan Morgan’s steam powered Gwen. I certainly did. If it were the Gwen, it would not only have
allowed us to gaze back into history some 116 years, it would have permitted us
— at least those capable of diving down to the artifact — to touch this
long-lost bit of local history. It would
have allowed us to compare newspaper accounts and photos of the craft to the
remaining portion of the thing itself.
And that would have permitted us to do history at a very detailed level
— an opportunity not often tendered in a largely throwaway culture.
All
the firm evidence so far located points to a conclusion that differs from
common knowledge. It’s important to note
that this conclusion doesn’t actually lessen the historical importance of the
existent artifact. If the society were
to discover a wealth of photos, documents, and firsthand accounts of the craft
I believe the remains represent — that of Evan Morgan’s gasoline powered
launch, the Loon — my expectation is that our appreciation of the slowly
dissolving relic’s significance would bloom.
Such a discovery is not likely to happen, but it would be the best of outcomes.
What
we don’t want to do is repeat the mistakes of the past. Recovering a craft believed to have been
underwater for over 90 years isn’t as simple as pulling it ashore, storing it
out of the weather, and letting it dry out.
Looking at the incredibly expensive operations undertaken to save just a
few pieces of ancient waterlogged wood suggests that insuring satisfactory
results with a construction as complex as this boat is far beyond the local
community’s ability — assuredly technical ability, and doubtless financial as
well. As an amateur project, this is not
something the local community should approach without, at the very least, a
detailed feasibility study carried out by someone well qualified. That kind of expertise doesn’t come cheap.
The
society has firsthand knowledge of how quickly a seemingly straightforward
project can go sideways, resulting in an ongoing expense no one
anticipated. Enthusiasm is not a
substitute for knowledge, and any attempt to raise and preserve this relic will
require a boatload of both.
… an
object of further study …
History is not a dead subject. Our view of the past is never completely
settled — never completely decided upon.
On occasion new information is added to the mix. And occasionally new interpretations of old
data reexamined suggests a revision of currently accepted thinking is
necessary. This constant activity
eventually leads even amateur historians such as us to the essential
truth. The study of history is
alive. It’s a vibrant intellectual
adventure. To those willing to invest,
it evokes argument entwined with a sense of passion. And that gives it life.
The
process of finding historical consensus is like the process of finding
scientific consensus. It’s a blending of
evidence and argument. It’s the process
of finding evidence, developing a hypothesis as to the meaning of that
evidence, publishing said hypothesis, and then facing the criticism of a
community of peers. In that, both
science and history are Darwinian exercises intelligently designed to promote
the survival of the fittest ideas. And
history has proven that this system does work.
This
is to suggest that our current investigation into Loon Lake’s drowned boat is
not intended to bring the history of Evan Morgan’s legendary Gwen and successor
to a close. Quite the opposite. It’s intended to bring both back into the
mainstream of local consciousness.
In
my imagination, I can visualize the outline of the Gwen resolving out of Loon
Lake’s chill morning mist. I can smell
the smoke trailing from its stack. I can
hear the chatter of its passengers — all long since passed. The boat’s hull is covered with bright white
paint. Its overhead canopy is red. The gunwale is trimmed in black or blue, or
maybe even dark green. It’s hard to tell
for sure when looking through so many intervening years.
Or
maybe the vision I’m seeing is the Loon — in which case I’ve no clue as to the
craft’s colors. Not that I’m all that
sure regarding the Gwen. The colors
we’re seeing in the Gwen’s vintage postcard images were doubtless added to
black and white images prior to printing.
Were the colors an accurate replication of the boat’s color scheme, or
just the whim of whomever was wielding the tinting brush? We just don’t know.
The
point here is that our visualization of both craft, though still very fuzzy,
are remarkably clearer than they were before our research began. The objective going forward is to correct any
errors in our understanding and add even more clarity to our vision. And that brings us back to just a few of the
hundreds of nagging questions our research has stirred up around Evan Morgan’s
boats.
For
one thing, we’d very much like to know when the attempt to lift the Loon was
made. If we have a close approximation,
it might be productive to search Spokane’s newspapers for John Craig’s Loon
Lake article. We know the Wednesday
prior to said article’s publication was the day the relic was raised. And the day after it was lifted to the
surface, it was re-sunk.
When
it comes to research, dates are important.
We’d
like to know how the Loon was raised to the surface. We could guess, but if we could talk to any
of the divers, or anyone that observed the operation, that would be ideal. We have a few names and are attempting to
follow through on this. Which is to
suggest that there’s a lot more to this story.
——— end ———
Links to the original Mortarboard articles:
