The Trouble with Harry Local moms, beware!

By Hal Calbom

furthest extent of the debris field of the lahar, which filled the valley of the north fork of the Toutle River after the lateral blast. Looking east up the floodplain, the dusty crater of Mount St. Helens loomed over all.

Fast forward a decade to my childhood, in Longview. The bottle of Mount St. Helens ash my parents kept in the basement fascinated me. The lid was partially corroded from the sulfuric nature of its contents. The ash had a fine, silky texture that exuded a slight sulfur odor when the bottle was shaken.

The “mountain” was a constant presence in childhood. We first summited St. Helens as a family in 1999. So began a family tradition of annually ascending the mountain through 2005, when volcanic activity interrupted that tradition. It was during the mountain’s 2004 awakening that I experienced my fleeting 15 seconds of fame on local television.

Harry Truman managed to achieve legendary status in his storied life and determined death. He also created lasting memories for Longview people and the greater Northwest.

“My mother was born in 1933,” recalled Marybeth Cranston of Longview, “her father, Bill Swift, worked for Standard Oil Company and was an avid fisherman.” Her mom, Marilyn, often accompanied her own dad (Marybeth’s grandfather) on fishing trips throughout her childhood.

“Their favorite place to stop to buy bait was at the Mount St. Helens Lodge gas station.” Marilyn’s dad would stop to shoot the breeze with Harry Truman, although “she was a little afraid of Harry and his gruff exterior. He usually smelled like alcohol and used a lot of bad words that were new to Marilyn.” Her dad chuckled and called him a character.

Marilyn and her dad had an unspoken agreement not to tell her own mother about Harry Truman. “Harry had a reputation for bootlegging, womanizing and profanity,” said Cranston, “all things Marilyn’s mom was not on board with.”

Marilyn’s dad took their special secret relationship to the grave with him. His daughter Marilyn remained his only confidante and fishing partner, and went on to teach her own daughter, Marybeth, how to become a fisherwoman.

Together they fished Lake Cushman, the Kalama and the Columbia together, happily.