B Street: The Notorious Playground of Coulee Dam

1. Moccasin Telegraph

3 1 MOCCASIN TELEGRAPH E arly in the morning, during late spring of 1934, Antoine Paul saddled two of his horses, a bay and a black, which he always kept in a small corral near his cabin. He was a tall, lanky man of twenty-one years. He had straight dark brown hair, and his complexion was medium bronze. Antoine had a narrow aquiline nose that reminded one of the beak of an eagle. His deep-set dark eyes and high cheekbones revealed his Sin-Aikst ancestry. Antoine led the horses from the corral. His legs were slightly bowed from years of riding horses. He mounted the bay easily and rode effortlessly, as if born to ride, his frame swaying in rhythm to the bay’s gait. Antoine led the black past the town of Inchelium that morning on his way to meet Eneas Boyd, his friend. Inchelium, a community of about 250, bordered the Swah net ka (Columbia River) on the Colville Indian Reservation, about seventy miles upriver from the Grand Coulee. Antoine and Eneas had spent their entire lives there. Eneas would accompany Antoine hunting in the hills above the little town. Antoine rode his bay slowly, methodically drawing on 4 MOCCASIN TELEGRAPH his handmade smoke as he led the black along the outskirts of town and then north along the Swah net ka. The rough pine houses in Inchelium showed a variety of knots in the siding, decorating the buildings in a pleasing natural way. The unpainted siding had aged and turned varying degrees of dark brown and gray over the years. Rusted nail heads dotted the lumber . In some places, the shanks of rusted nails were visible, pulled by the breathing and buckling of uncured lumber over the decades. The small houses all had tarpaper roofs that had aged to a soft gray. They had the appearance of having been built by the same person. There was a similarity about them that seemed to suggest they might be in some way related. Tepees here and there indicated that some of the residents were Inchelium viewed from across the Columbia River, 1938. Courtesy The Spokesman-Review. MOCCASIN TELEGRAPH 5 still doggedly adhering to traditions. Outhouses placed close to the houses suggested that they were companions in need.Antoine smiled as he remembered that during Halloween the outhouses were the first to go.Young people did not go trick-or-treating because no one had anything to give. But boys would go around at night, after most people were asleep, and tip over the outhouses. He remembered doing that himself when he was young.Antoine also remembered how angry the adults became when they discovered the young boys’ misdeeds the following morning. A few of the houses had wooden fences around them, not always in the best of repair. There were no manicured lawns, no exotic deciduous trees, except for the chokecherries, willows, and occasional serviceberries that lined the Swah net ka. A few lilac bushes contributed beauty and fragrance to the town. An occasional pine tree shaded houses that were close by. A huge forest of pine, fir, and tamarack surrounded the little town, dotted here and there by groves of aspen. Wild grass, cheatgrass, and an assortment of weeds covered the areas surrounding many of the houses. Hard-packed trails had been formed by years of use where constructed walks might be expected. Smoke rose from disfigured, rusting metal stovepipes of various shapes, indicating that breakfasts were being prepared for the houses’ occupants. This seemed like a typical day in Inchelium, which Antoine had witnessed so many times before. Things did not seem to change much. Everyone knew one another, and most were related in some way. The future always seemed predictable. Antoine mused as his mind dwelled on this. As he rode past, he thought that Inchelium looked better in the winter when the town was covered with a blanket of snow. At that time of year, especially at night, the town was peaceful and quiet, lying under millions of stars. The snow reflected the brilliance from 6 MOCCASIN TELEGRAPH above. Warm dim lights, from kerosene lamps glowing through windows , gave evidence of life in the little town. Smoke rising quietly from stovepipes seemed to warm the town and link everything to the sky above. The occasional barking of dogs echoed the howls of coyotes in the hills. The powerful rumbling...