Little Boy Ranch & Roadhouse

ODOT, Historic Columbia River Highway Oral History: Final Report

Marie Malatak – About the Parker Family

Marie Malatak was interviewed over the phone by Sara Morrissey on May 19, 2009. Marie is the great-grandchild of Mr. Charles W. and Mrs. Helena Parker, one of the first families at Mitchell Point. The story of the Parker Family is told through recollections of Marie Malatak.

The Parker home at Mitchell Point, was located near the Sonny train station. Mr. Charles W. Parker and Mrs. Helena Parker‘s house was constructed by local boat builder in 1915-1916. The home was later referred to as the “Little Boy Ranch” (Figure 3.23).

The Parkers mostly divided their time between Canada and New York City, but they chose to spend their summers at Mitchell Point. Their adopted children, Joan and Charles, accompanied them and spent many of their childhood summers playing in the Columbia Gorge.

The Parker family would travel by train to their home at Mitchell Point on the Oregon-Washington Railroad & Navigation (OWRN) Company line (part of the Union Pacific System). The OWRN Company built the Sonny train station, primarily for the family’s use. In addition to the Little Boy Ranch, the Parkers owned two other properties on the west side of Mitchell Point.

Landscaping consisted of orchards and roses which were planted on the property for Mrs. Helena Parker. This vegetation could be enjoyed by the many guests that frequented the property as Mrs. Helena Parker was theatrical and enjoyed entertaining and would hold festivals and parties at the Little Boy Ranch.

Charles W. Parker, fondly remembered as “Daddy Parker,” passed away in December of 1921 and the family remained in the East. Helena had remarried later in life and passed away in March 1963. Joan Parker, Marie Malatak’s grandmother, passed away in 1996, but always remembered her time at the Little Boy Ranch at Mitchell Point.

In 1921, all three properties were transferred to other owners, most likely sold, as the Parker family moved east. Elsie Tenney later bought the property and added a roadhouse (read more about Elsie Tenney on following page [Below]).

The stone wall around the base of the roadhouse is still visible.

The grade from the old gas station, the foundations from the motel, and the stonework foundation of the roadhouse are all still visible.

Looking at the photos on the interpretive sign, I am fairly certain that the concrete foundation closest to the parking lot is from the old motel, and the stone foundation is from what must have been the roadhouse (the large, house shaped structure in the photos).

The level grade around the gas station appears to still be partially visible at Mitchell Point.

While this area may have been graded later for some reason, it seems to match the location of the old gas station in the interpretive sign photos.

ODOT, Historic Columbia River Highway Oral History: Final Report

Michael Tenney & Barbara Hosford, Relatives of the Tenney Family that Lived at Sonny/Mitchell Point

Siblings Michael Tenney and Barbara Hosford were interviewed on June 11, 2009, by Sara Morrissey at Barbara’s home in Hood River.

The Tenney Family and Mitchell Point

According to family photos and stories William Tenney, Barbara and Michael’s grandfather, was quite an astute gentleman. He grew up with his family in May, Oklahoma, near the center of the panhandle. His father, Franklin Pierce Tenney, was a farmer but William chose a different path for himself. In family photos, even those taken on the farm, William Tenney was never dressed in farm attire. He would wear town “dude suits,” three piece numbers with nice hats. He lived the life of a high roller, as Michael Tenney described, “platinum stick pins one week and shooting craps for beer money the next week.”

William lived in May, Oklahoma during the Dust Bowl days and married a young girl named Elsie, also known as “Babe” (Figure 3.24). William had a few jobs including the oil industry and as a lumber broker for the Panhandle Lumber Company in Amarillo, Texas. He also enjoyed a life of entertainment and was known as a bit of a party animal. Elsie, who also came from a farm family from Oklahoma was the worker bee in the family. While she enjoyed the life of entertainment with William, Elsie eventually tired of it, and left the Amarillo area, heading up to Oregon around 1935 with their two sons: Joe Bill and Jack.

“I just can't imagine coming out here with two boys, alone” - Barbara

While neither Michael nor Barbara knew how Elsie and her sons traveled up to Oregon, Michael suspects that it was by bus. Elsie and the boys ended up at Mitchell Point where she opened a roadhouse, including a service station, a sandwich shop, and a “tourist court” where travelers could stop to rest (Figure 3.25). Elsie “Babe” was a hard worker and ran the full business, while raising two young boys.

“I'd been there [Mitchell Point house] a few times as a kid, say when my dad was fishing, we'd stop in and look around and head on out.” – Michael

According to Barbara’s aunt and uncle, the Mitchell Point house was known for throwing some large social gatherings. The house was well suited for entertaining and resembled Timberline lodge with a staircase made up of 12-inch split logs. A large cobblestone foyer led to a fireplace that was large enough for a grown man to stand inside. The first floor also consisted of a kitchen and a large dining room with glass French doors. Babe would clear these rooms for dances when bands from Portland would come up to play. People from Portland and the Gorge would come to have a good time at the house at Mitchell Point.

Michael recalls meeting one gentleman, a long haul trucker, who had passed through Mitchell Point in the 1930s and remembered the hospitality that ‘Babe’ had showed him. Even though it was during prohibition, Babe always had a little alcohol available and she was always ready with food, no matter what time it was. ‘Social services’ were also provided for visitors upon request in the tourist court and men could receive nightly “tuck-ins.” The long haul trucker had appreciated the hospitality at such great lengths he had gotten a tattoo on his arm that read “Babe 1935,” which he showed Michael. Inspired by the man’s story, Michael wrote a song about trucker’s experience, he titled it “Mitchell Point in a Teamster’s Eyes.”

Another fellow by the name of Vince Orcutt, who worked for many years at the Hood River distillery, told Michael of how he got his first experience working with distilled spirits at Mitchell Point. When he was in high school he would work at Mitchell Point as a “swamper” and would bus tables, wash dishes and make runs into Cascade Locks to get supplies. While working at Mitchell Point he learned how Elsie distilled spirits.

“‘Mitchell Point, Mitchell Point, my god, what a place.’” – unknown man relating a story to Michael

Mitchell Point was also known as a hunting ground. People hunted the elk and the large herds of goats that lived in the area. Michael recalls the story of a politically well connected Hood River man, Mr. Sche, who was rumored to have hosted a hunting party for President Theodore Roosevelt. The party went to hunt elk in the area behind and to the west of Mitchell Point, up through a draw that leads into the hills.

Joe Bill and Jack grew up at Mitchell Point and were known for racing. Joe Bill had a red Ford convertible and Jack rode an Indian motorcycle. They raced their car and motorcycle on the old highway and held unofficial land speed records.

In 1944 Elsie Tenney passed away due to heart conditions while her sons, Joe Bill and Jack were serving in the South Pacific. As the boys were in a heavy casualty area, the family lawyer, Teunis Wyers, Sr., sold the estate and escrowed the money into a trust fund to wait for the boys when they got home. Both Joe Bill and Jack came back safely and divided the money; Jack joined the police force in Spokane, Washington and Joe Bill opened a local home appliance store. When the service station changed hands it became a Shell and the tourist court developed into a four unit motel that was located below the house and to the west of the sandwich stop. By the early 1960s the property, which had been under the ownership of the Lausmann family, was donated to Oregon State Parks.

Michael has commemorated his grandmother’s memory and that of Mitchell Point in a song he wrote titled, “The Roadhouse Joint at Mitchell Point.”

Mitchell Point in a Teamster’s Eyes, A song written by Michael Tenney

“Let me tell you a little something about your grandma,” the old man said.

His voice was a Pall Mall whisper and his eyes were Old Crow red.

“I used to drive a freight rig out of Portland to points away out east,

And your grandma Babe ran a roadhouse where the teamsters used to feast.

It never seemed to matter about the hour or the weather,

When Babe would hear the brakes come on she’d start gettin’ it together.

I never saw a night so late the coffee wasn’t on

And she had bacon fryin’ before the sun was breakin’ dawn.

When the pills ran out and a teamster knew there was five hundred miles to go,

She had a room where a man could bunk til he was ready for the road.

She had a cast‐iron safe where your wallet would always be found

In the same shape you locked it in there with your money safe and sound.

She ran a straight‐up joint in days when times was hard enough.

Without havin’ some sleazy landlord go pawin’ through your stuff.

And if she seen the lonely road was wearin’ your soul kinda thin

She’d often as not send a waitress out to kindly tuck you in.

It wasn’t nothin evil son, no matter what you hear,

And if your stash was low on cash you could straighten it out without fear

When you rolled back through in a month or two,

She kept her accounts real clear.

And your grandma was a magician in the days of Prohibition,

She must have been acquainted with a recipe or two,

For she always had a snort if you wanted a sip or a quart,

And the sheriff never seemed to hear the news.

She raised your daddy up healthy and strong and kept the family fed,

And did every day with a great big smile no matter what local folks said.

A hundred of us would have died for her if she’d only said where and when,

For she gave of herself in a saint‐like way that’s seldom been seen since then.

So when you hear the bluenoses talk down on her roadhouse joint,

Remember those hardscrabble truckers saved by the angel of Mitchell Point.”

His Pall Mall went out in the ashtray and the faraway look in his eyes

Grew faded like the blue tattoo on his arm that said “BABE 1935.”

The Roadhouse Joint at Mitchell Point, A song written by Michael Tenney – 2002

Jack was ten and my Dad was nine when Grandpa hit the road

To be an oilfield roughneck, leaving Grandma Babe with the load

Of raising up two hellion boys and bringing home the cash

In dustbowl Amarillo just after the Wall Street crash.

So Grandma Babe hit the road herself and hauled the boys along

And landed up in Oregon where the Columbia rolls on.

The river flowed past Hood River a couple of miles to Mitchell Point

Where Babe took what little she had and bought her a roadside joint.

It wasn’t much to look at, just a gas pump and a grill,

But at least it was a thousand miles from any oilfield drill.

She built a dozen cabins up in the woods behind the store,

A tourist court she called it but it soon turned into more.

For soon the weary truckers would come in off the road

And a couple of girls moved out from town to help out with the load.

The times were hard in Depression Days, and folks did what they could,

And a twenty‐dollar gold piece got to looking pretty good.

After a while Babe toned things up and put in a place to dance

And folks would travel up the Gorge to listen to the bands.

Then Prohibition went away and Babe put in a bar

And served from bonded bottles instead of Mason jars.

Dad had a ragtop flathead Ford in fire engine red,

And Jack held the land speed record on his Indian it was said

Down U.S. Highway 30, Mitchell Point to Multnomah Falls

With the throttle twisted open, flat‐out balls to the wall.

And then Pearl Harbor came along and the boys went off to fight,

And the roadhouse joint at Mitchell Point got quieter each night.

The girls moved back on into town and the truck trade grew real thin

As ration stamps for gasoline caused fewer wheels to spin.

Jack and Dad sent letters home from South Pacific shores,

And Grandma answered every one till 1944.

It was her heart the doctor said, and those goddam cigarettes,

And the war went on and the boys stayed gone, and the lawyer sent regrets.

I sold the place, his letter said, and the money’s been put aside

If either one of you heroes comes home; and by the way a lot of folks cried

The day we laid your mother away and shuttered that roadhouse joint,

The end of an era was what they called it when we closed up Mitchell Point.

Jack came back and joined the cops, and Dad took his G.I. loan

And married Mom and opened a store after buying an older home.

The Interstate came through and they blew the old tunnel in,

And Highway 30 disappeared as though it had never been.

But back in the brush that covers the land a stone foundation lies,

Where once stood the roadhouse joint, now gone from mortal eyes.

And Mitchell Point is a rest stop now, just a turn‐out on the road,

And only a few remember how the roadhouse lights once glowed.

But some will say if you listen real close by the light of a summer moon

You can hear the voice of a woman as she sings a Glenn Miller tune.

And it could just be the sound of the trees as the wind up the river rolls,

But the voice has a sweet Oklahoma twang from the heart of the old dust bowl.

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