Friday, July 17, 2020

In Search of Loon Lake's Drowned Boat - Loon Lake, Washington: Part Two.

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.




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