Merry Christmas 1947

Christmas card from Bert T Walsh, 1947

The SS Matsonia rounding Diamond Head

On Armistice Day

by Madge R. Walsh, Nov. 11, 2008

My father, my brother, and my husband all were veterans of the US Navy.

Ensign Russell D Richardson

My father volunteered in World War I, and was sent to Mare Island Naval Station on San Francisco Bay, where the USS Gridley (a four-stack destroyer) was being built. As a “landsman,” he was to be trained as an electrician, but the class was full so there was a long wait until the next class. Half a dozen of these “landsmen” got bored with nothing to do, so they hired tutors and studied to get their commissions as officers – and did. (It was a relief not to have to sleep in a hammock anymore!). My father was assigned to the Gridley as an ensign; during the builder’s trial runs, it got pretty rough – green water over the bow at 35 knots – but my father didn’t get seasick, and never did (I wish I could say the same for myself, but I can’t.). The day the Gridley sailed out of San Francisco Bay was the day the Armistice was signed.

One of the highlights of that first voyage was the passage through the Panama Canal, recently built; another was that the Gridley was one of the ships stationed at intervals across the Atlantic to report on the flight of the four Navy seaplanes across the Atlantic, and if necessary, rescue any that didn’t make it. The Gridley did have to rescue the pilot of one plane; another destroyer tried to tow it, but the seaplane was not built for that kind of treatment, and sank.

David C Richardson

After the war, my parents married and had my brother, who served in World War II. He was in college, Naval ROTC, and managed to graduate (University of California). He was immediately sent to New York for midshipman school at Columbia. The Navy then sent him off to the South Pacific. He had a small sailboat on San Francisco Bay, and the Navy put him on a small ship, a wooden APc originally designed for mine sweeping, etc. They had the not unpleasant duty of exploring the remote islands & atolls to check up on the presence of any Japanese (didn’t find any); but then were part of the Philippine invasion. At Luzon, his little ship was attacked by a kamikaze, but another US ship shot it down, so they were not damaged. From there, they faced the imminence of invading Japan; but were “saved” from that by the atomic bomb, and the subsequent Japanese surrender. People decry the use of atomic weapons, but at least in this case, my family is grateful that the invasion did not take place, and my brother was not killed.

After his tour of duty was done, my brother was assigned as captain of an oceangoing tug launched in Portland, Oregon; he was to take it to Honolulu. It had a small crew, only 2 officers – my brother and a navigator. The poor navigator was seasick all the way to San Francisco, so my brother did the navigation. As they approach the pilot boat at the entrance to San Francisco Bay, the fog lifted – my brother said if he kept on going, it would’ve run right into it. Since he’d sailed the San Francisco Bay and knew it well, he was darned if he take on a pilot, and took the tug into the bay himself. After delivering the tug at Pearl Harbor, he was released from the Navy. He continued to sail in small (and larger) boats, even in the Midwest, whenever he could find a lake to sail on.

Bert T. Walsh

My husband was also in the Navy, during the Korean “conflict.” He served on an LCd; once he showed me a photo of the hold – the “dock” – loaded with wounded men on stretchers, being evacuated. Before that, growing up in San Francisco, he had been a Sea Scout, and made lifelong friends – I still have a photo of their sailboat, the “Corsair,” and its “pirate” flag is brought out at every reunion. He attended the Maritime Academy at Vallejo, now part of the University of California system. He sailed on oil tankers and also for Matson, to Honolulu. I recall the time after we were married and had our son, we were walking along San Francisco’s Embarcadero, and he told our little boy how to get on a board a liner as a stowaway! But he had taken advantage of the G.I. bill, went to college and eventually became a licensed mechanical engineer. For a man who really didn’t enjoy traveling, his work took us to quite a few places, in the US and Canada. After we “retired” to Northern California, he even had a small sailboat on Whiskeytown Lake. Our son has missed our latest embroilment (now too old). I’m hoping my grandsons – and their contemporaries – never again have to face such situations.

Once Upon a Time: Honolulu

by Marjory Cutting Hulting

     On December 13, 1899, on my seventh birthday, we sailed from San Francisco for Honolulu. It was a foggy, bleak day when we left Marmee’s house and went to the wharf, the last part of the trip over large noisy cobblestones. Our trunks and our cat Billie, a huge part Persian, in a crate, were taken to the ship, R.P. Rithet, by a neighbor, Esther Hayes the expressman.

     By the time we reached the dock, I was thoroughly frightened at the strangeness of it all and the confusion, smells, fussing relations and my mother’s determined good-natured impatience. Billie had escaped from his slatted box, made by my young uncle Howard; so with this excuse, I cried. Everyone asked what was the matter, and knowing grown-ups always must have a reason, Billie’s loss was the simplest. I can look back and realize that Billie was not the main reason, but merely my excuse. Loving relations were my grandfather and grandmother Cutting, my Aunt Evelyn, Papa’s Auntie Grace [Beck] and Howard, then about 18. We love them all dearly and, on their part we were going to a very faraway place.

     Papa had gone to Honolulu some months before as a salesman for Waterhouse & Lester, a carriage supply firm in San Francisco where he was a bookkeeper, and a firm in Honolulu called Honolulu Carriage Co. had offered him the position as manager. He came home, made the necessary arrangements and returned to Honolulu, leaving my mother to sell the furniture (except the piano), put the house up for rent and take four children by sailing vessel to make a new home.

Our captain was Capt. MacPhail, a young, slight Scotsman with a decided accent. The first mate was Dr. Mr. (afterward Capt.) George Weston Gove, and a close friend of the family for many years thereafter. The second mate was another Scott named Mr. Burns, the delight of us children because he sang sea shanty type songs for us and had ridiculous things to say about the passengers, especially one old man who used to go to a barrel of seawater every morning and put it on his eyes saying, “nothing is so good for the eyes is good saltwater.” The mate took him off perfectly. We had Christmas at sea, and a passenger, Capt. Frieze, dressed a Santa Claus, came down through the cabin skylight with presents for everyone.

The Cutting's 1902 voyage aboard the R.P. Rithet

Clippings: A Promising Athlete

From the San Francisco Chronicle, 1896

A PROMISING ATHLETE
Walsh, a High School Boy of San Francisco, Who Walks With Style and Speed.

            There is a High School boy in San Francisco whose performances as a walker indicate that in him are the possibilities of the future coast champion. His name is A. M. Walsh and he lives at 1631 Ellis street. He is 18 years of age, 5 feet 7 ½ inches in height and of slight build, for he weighs, in meager track dress, but 114 pounds.

            In March, 1895, he practiced for the first time to heel-and-toe movement that is the essential part of fair walking, and in a trial on the Olympic Club grounds covered a mile in about ten minutes. Previous to that he had accustomed himself to rapid walking in going to and returning from the High School, a distance of 10 blocks from his home. That was his first training, so he was not conscious of it at the time.

A.M. Walsh, a Coming Walker (From a photograph by "The Elite.")

A.M. Walsh, in the original photograph

Young Walsh now walks a mile in 7 minutes 30 seconds. What that means may be imagined when it is asserted that a very great majority of men, take them as they pass on the street and untrained, cannot run a mile to a fire in that time. For one who is practically in his first year as a walker this is remarkable speed. Generally three years are necessary to develop a walker, and in the larger universities today there are few men whose performances surpassed the work of this beginner. The intercollegiate record for the Pacific Coast is 7 minutes 25 2-5 seconds and was made over three years ago by Harry Timm, a very tall, wiry, long-limbed athlete, who was graduated from Stanford University in 1893.

The best previous collegiate record had been held by George Foulkes of the University of California. During the last three years the record has not been threatened. L. T. Merwin of the University of California gave some good exhibitions in the East a year ago, but his time here has not been worthy of note is the performance of an experienced member of a great athletic team. Merwin is, however, a very fair walker, although his style is not the best, and his height and strength give him an advantage over a smaller man. Foulkes was a sick-set football-player, a “plodder” in his style of walking and probably incapable of very great speed because of his muscular build. Timm’s style is more like that of Walsh, an easy, loose-jointed rapid movement. But Timm’s fault was a left knee that would not always straighten completely back before the heel was raised.

And a failure to “lock” the knee to have a total of one foot and the heel of the other on the ground simultaneously subjects a walker to a caution from a watchful judge. Three cautions disqualify a man from further competition in the race, or one caution on the final 100 yards will disqualify him.

Walsh has never yet been cautioned for an unfair step and he has won six medals. His steady improvement in speed is shown in the records of events he has entered: September 14, 1895, 9 minutes 6 seconds; April 11, 1896, 8 minutes 3 3-5 seconds, breaking the school record of 9 minutes 4 seconds; May 2, 1896 Coast championship, when he finished 9 yards behind Merwin whose time was 8 minutes 10 seconds; June 13, 1896, 7 minutes 49 2-5 seconds; July 4, 1896, 7 minutes 40 seconds, at Stockton, where he was beaten by Henry Timm; July 16, 1896, 7 minutes 39 seconds.

Walsh’s stride from toe to toe is 52 inches and from toe to heel is 42 inches, though the inside seam of his trousers measures only a fraction over 33 inches. As yet he has not acquired the low, gliding side-swing movement of the foot, so well exemplified in the easy style of Horace Coffin, the champion walker of the coast. That is another possibility.

Clippings: Four Generations Join in Baptismal Ceremony

From The Independent, Northfield, Minnesota, 1909

On last Sunday afternoon four generations in the Richardson family met in a unique and impressive service. A few weeks ago The Independent mentioned the arrival in the city of Rev. G. W. Richardson and daughter, Miss Emma Richardson, from Colorado, who came for a visit with relatives. Mrs. Claude Street and son also came from Montana a short time ago and a week ago last Saturday Mr. and Mrs. Bernard Street and Claude arrived from Deer Lodge Mont., to spend the summer vacation with relatives in this city. This brought together four generations in the Richardson family, and made possible the culmination of a cherished plan conceived by the eldest member of the family.

Last Sunday afternoon the members of the four generations met at the home of Mr. and Mrs. D. F. Richardson, when the sacrament of baptism was administered to his little great-grandsons by Rev. G. W. Richardson. The grandparents on the fathers’ side, Mr. and Mrs. John Street, were also present with the other members of their family, also relatives of the Richardson family, to the number of thirty-three.

Rev. G. W. Richardson spoke earnestly of the touching ceremony, the good old hymn beginning, “Faith of our fathers living still,” was sung by the gathered company, when the venerable great-grandfather administered the sacrament of baptism to Paul Richardson Street, son of Mr. and Mrs. Claude Street, and also to Harold Richardson Street, son of Mr. and Mrs. Bernard Street.

Several days previous members of the four generations interested has gotten together at Mehlin’s studio, where a photograph was taken from one of which The Independent has had the cut made that is shown above.

Four generations of Richardsons

This visit is also recorded by Emma Richardson in her journal:

“Father’s health is good, for his age, but each year he grew frailer… We spent the month of June 1909 visiting at Northfield Minnesota. Ella and Florence, daughters of my brother David had come home for a vacation visit, from Montana; each bringing a fine baby boy. And Father simply had to go see his first great-grandchildren. During this visit, he had the great pleasure of baptizing these precious infants, viz: Paul Richardson Street, and Harold Richardson Street.”

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Snapshots: Honolulu

by Jessie Emma Dewey (Cutting), ca. 1899 

Ida and Jessie on the porch - a picture from the same roll

 On the back it reads:

"Gene & I took these snaps - developed the plates & printed them - terrible

Ida -               

At corner of Beretania & Alexander St Honolulu. Cottage built by Chinese contractors - note Chinese architecture. Thot these snapshots might amuse you. I was going to destroy them but will let you do it."

The same intersection in 2016 (via Google Street View)

A Photographic Footnote

by Madge Richardson Walsh, 1985

In the trunk of family papers and mementos which my aunt left me several years ago, there were a dozen “case” photos, or what are loosely called daguerreotypes – portraits on glass, bound in ornate gilt brass frames and set in velvet-lined molded cases. All the pictures had been identified by my schoolteacher great-aunt (bless her!) in her copybook handwriting, and all of them were in excellent condition except one. Its condition was deplorable. It was, of course, the one most interesting to me, since it was a rare and early (1857) family picture including my grandfather and my great-grandfather, the Rev. George Warren Richardson.

According to my great-aunt’s notation, there were supposed to be five people in the picture, but only three could be made out: the dim figures of great-grandfather George, his wife Caroline (Fay), seated, with my grandfather David as a very young child standing by his father’s knee. The head of a fourth figure, that of the nursemaid and housekeeper, was barely discernible in the background; and the fifth figure, of another child, had completely disappeared.

The ambrotype in its deplorable condition

    The other case portraits were of collateral relatives and frustratingly clear – lovely tinted tintypes and glass ambrotypes. Why did the most important one have to be the one in such poor condition? Nevertheless, I copied it along with other family photos; the results were predictably disappointing, and I set it aside as not worth reproducing.

Some time later, I had the opportunity to attend a seminar on the archival care and conservation of photographs. It was conducted by expert Peter Palmquist at the Reading Museum and Art Center, Redding, California. The second day’s session was for family historians; we were to bring examples of what we had, especially problems.

My problem picture was an ambrotype, a successor to the true daguerreotype, but similar in process and appearance. The emulsion is fixed on the glass plate as a negative image. By providing a black background, the viewer sees the image as a positive. Ambrotypes are usually backed by a coating of asphalt or simply black paper. Although there are risks, many times such pictures can be relatively easily restored by using new black paper (acid-free, please – photographic print paper is good). Handling should be kept to a minimum; the brass encasing the glass becomes brittle as it is bent and unbent, and tends to break. There is also the possibility that the whole picture will disintegrate.

The problem with my picture proved to be more difficult. Peter volunteered to take the thing apart, if I was willing; I might lose what little could still be seen. But I felt it was worth the risk, the portrait being unusable as it was (and I did have a copy of it).

So, with all of us holding our breath, Peter carefully pried the packet out of the case, and gently unfolded the brass enclosure. The packet was a sandwich of two pieces of glass, a plain clear one on the bottom, and the glass with a negative image on top with the emulsion side inward. Between them as filling was a scrap of black velvet cloth: here was the reason for the poor quality of the picture – the velvet had crocked, depositing little particles of fuzz all over the emulsion negative.

Peter lifted the glass negative carefully off the velvet and held it up to the light. We could see immediately that the image itself was intact and whole, and all five figures were clearly visible. It was quite a moment, as we all exhaled!

Peter was able to remove the fuzz and make some excellent 8 x 10 prints for me, using the original glass plate negative. From these large prints I can make my own modern negative. This rare portrait of his family and George Richardson himself as a young paterfamilias may eventually grace his autobiography as its frontispiece; and the glass negative is safely back in its brass gilt frame and molded case, wrapped in soft cloth and none the worse for wear.

The same picture, restored

Bert T Walsh Obituary

Redding Record-Searchlight

Wednesday, December 21, 2005

Bert Thompson Walsh 

December 28, 1926 – December 11, 2005

Bert was born in San Francisco, son of Albert Marion Walsh and Ruth Neely Thompson. He was a graduate of Lowell High School, and made lasting friends in the Sea Scouts, sailing on San Francisco Bay. After getting his third mate’s license from the California Maritime Academy, Vallejo, he sailed for Matson Navigation Company on the Matsonia, and on the standard oil company tanker HD Collier.

He volunteered as an officer for the USNR in 1949, and saw active duty during the Korean War. From 1950 to 1952 he served on the USS Catamount (an LSD) in Japan and Korea, mostly in the engine room. This was his first introduction to a steam power plant and he found it interesting. Discharged as an Lt.jg, he utilized the G.I. Bill to graduate from the University of California in June 1957 with a BS degree in Mechanical Engineering.

As a licensed Professional Engineer in California, Oregon and Washington, he was project manager for Chevron asphalt plants in Troy, New York; Calgary, Canada; and Phoenix, Arizona. A subsequent major project was successfully moving Phillips & Van Orden’s printing plant from San Francisco to San Jose without interrupting production.

In 1969 he first came to Redding to work for Kimberly-Clark at the Anderson paper mill. In 1976 he moved his family again when he went to work for Pacific Engineering Company, a private consulting firm in Portland, Oregon, and remained there for 10 years, engaged on projects in the Northwest and Canada.

Bert and his trees: "If you want to be happy for a year, plant a garden;
if you want to be happy for life, plant a tree."

He took early retirement in 1986 and happily returned to Redding with his wife Madge. Here he resumed his volunteer activities with the Shasta Historical Society, serving on its board of directors 1990-1996, and as its president from 1992 to 1994. Both he and his wife enjoy delving into local historical research; Bert devoted much of his energy to locate lost grave sites and cemeteries, meeting interesting local people wherever he went.

Generally undemonstrative and unpretentious, he was known for his ready wit, his dry, apt (and often irreverent) remarks. After a major heart attack in 1999, he knew he was living on borrowed time. His heart and lungs finally failed; hospitalized, he met his death peacefully. Madge was with him.

He was one of the last surviving members of his Sea Scout crew and of an informal group of his classmates from the California Maritime Academy. He was also a member of the American Society of Mechanical Engineers; the Conference of California Historical Societies; E Clampus Vitas; Horsetown-Clear Creek Preserve; Turtle Bay Exploration Park; and the First Christian Church, Disciples of Christ, Redding.

He is survived by his wife of 47 years, Madge Richardson Walsh; their son David Richardson Walsh of Beaverton, Oregon, their daughter Caitilin Walsh of Redmond, Washington, her husband, Alfred Hellstern, and two grandsons, Marcus and Daniel Hellstern. Audrey, a stillborn granddaughter predeceased him.

Memorial services are to be held at 2 PM Saturday, January 14, 2006, at First Christian Church, Redding, Pastor Heather Hennessey officiating. His ashes are to be interred at Redding Cemetery. In lieu of flowers, memorial contributions to the church or a charity of your choice are suggested.