This is a remarkable story of early automobile travel. In 1912, a group of travelers set out from California to Portland, Oregon. Along the way, they faced deep mud, fallen trees, and icy conditions. They forded rivers, camped under the open sky, and endured every challenge—all while dressed in hats and suits.
Today, we take paved roads for granted. Highways connect nearly every destination. Few people even remember a time before the interstate system, built in the 1950s. But in the early 20th century, travel was far from easy.
The Roads of 1912
In 1912, some major cities had started paving their streets. However, once you left urban areas, roads turned into dirt tracks, often shared with horses and wagons. At the time, few people owned automobiles, and even fewer dared to take them beyond city limits.
Cars were still unreliable. The Ford Model T had only been in production for three years and had yet to become widely popular among working-class Americans. The idea of a national highway system had not yet taken shape. Instead, most long-distance travelers relied on stagecoaches, ships, or trains. A trip from Los Angeles to Portland by wagon was rare.
The Elks Club Convention and an Ambitious Journey
In 1912, Portland hosted the Elks Club National Convention. It was a major event, drawing visitors from across the country. Most attendees arrived by conventional means. However, some chose to take more adventurous routes.
Four men walked from Brookfield, Missouri, covering more than 2,200 miles in just over three months. But another group decided to make history.
The First Car Trip from California to Portland?
At the same time, three men set out from an unknown city in California toward Portland in a 1912 Haynes touring car. Their names—Frank Morehead, Charlie McClower, and John Roger Wood—are preserved in photographs documenting their journey.
They claimed to be the first men to drive from California to Portland. While this has not been officially verified, they were certainly among the earliest. The photos capture a glimpse of what such a journey must have been like.
Preserving a Piece of History
I acquired these photos in an eBay auction. They came from a scrapbook found at an estate sale in Michigan. As a collector of antique photographs, I placed a bid and won. The images included a brief description but few details. I have found no further information online.
Although the full story remains a mystery, these photos offer a rare look at the challenges faced by early motorists. Their journey stands as a testament to the adventurous spirit of those who helped pioneer long-distance automobile travel.
I wanted to share them here—so that their adventure is not forgotten.
“Booming Business – Tiny Brightwood post office will soon be upgraded in status, and position of officer in charge will be changing to postmaster. Kay Hudon, who’s now officer in charge, is applying for the new job.”
“Richard Lightbody, owner of Oregon Ark Motel, puts final touches on “ark” he is building out of bender boards, even though area has had fewer than 40 days of rain a year. He said ark was not meant to save souls but to attract attention to his motel on U.S. 26, which he has owned since June.”
When people think of Mount Hood, crime usually isn’t the first thing that comes to mind. Especially not murder. Yet, one story from Mount Hood’s past should be told—the mountain’s first recorded murder. This is the story of the first Murder on Mount Hood.
The Oregon Trail and the Barlow Road
For about 40 years, the Oregon Trail carried settlers west, and became the main route into the Willamette Valley. Samuel Barlow and Joel Palmer blazed the trail over the south shoulder of Mount Hood. Soon after Barlow made the trail a toll road. Tollgates were placed along the route to collect fees from travelers. One tollgate keeper, Perry Vickers, became an integral figure in the history of Mount Hood.
The Barlow Trail at Marmot Oregon
Perry Vickers: A Mount Hood Pioneer
Perry Vickers was among the first residents on the south side of Mount Hood, an area that today includes the small ski town of Government Camp. He was well liked by everyone, especially those passing over the Barlow Road in their wagons.
He secured squatter’s rights at Summit Meadow, a natural clearing at the top of the pass, in 1865. Here, the road began its descent down the west slope of Mount Hood, leading settlers on the final stretch toward the Willamette Valley. Vickers built the first accommodations in the area, including a lodge, store, barns, and a corralled field for livestock.
Mount Hood’s First Tourists
During his time on Mount Hood, Portland grew rapidly with the influx of new settlers. Many of these settlers returned to the mountain, over the road that had once challenged their or their parent’s journey, seeking recreation and adventure.
Vickers became Mount Hood’s first climbing guide. Hiking and climbing the peak became increasingly popular at the end of the 19th and early 20th centuries. He enthusiastically promoted visitation and recreation. Vickers even created a tradition of lighting the mountain by carrying fuel for a large fire near what is now known as Illumination Rock. He is credited with being the first person to spend a night atop Mount Hood.
In August 1873, Vickers survived a night on the summit by building a crude rock shelter. Later, he recalled, “I dared not sleep, lest the cold take me. At dawn, I beheld a glory of light such as mortal eyes rarely see.”
Perry Vickers
Perry Vickers’ Early Troubles
Vickers was known as a dreamer and a poet. Newspapers later referred to him as “the mountain’s first true romantic.” The Oregon Historical Society preserves some of his verses about sunrises over the Cascade peaks and sunsets glowing across the summit.
However, his start in Oregon wasn’t on solid footing.
In 1865, Vickers arrived in Vancouver, Washington. While looking for work, he fell in with three other young strangers. Unfortunately, they were soon arrested at Fort Vancouver for horse theft, a serious crime at the time.
They were held for about two months awaiting trial. Each prisoner wore an “Oregon Boot,” a seven-pound iron clevis attached to the ankle to prevent escape. Public sympathy grew for Vickers, who consistently protested his innocence.
Fort Vancouver Washington
Escape Across the Columbia River
Worried that guilt by association would seal his fate, Vickers planned an escape. Their wooden cell allowed them to pry loose several 2″x4″ window bars, and the group fled into the night.
Once free, Vickers separated from his companions. Pursuers closed in as he reached the Columbia River. His ankle was chafed and bleeding from the iron shackle. In desperation, he plunged into the mile-wide, fast-moving river.
Miraculously, he swam across with the seven-pound clevis still attached to his ankle.
On the far bank, Vickers found a farm where he pried off the iron using a wagon wheel wrench and a bolt. The next morning, woodcutters gave him food and directed him to Powell Valley, where his brother lived. His brother provided clothes and supplies and urged him to head east along the Barlow Road to find work until the danger passed.
Meeting Stephen Coalman
Traveling east, Vickers met Stephen Coalman, the overseer of the old Barlow Road. Coalman offered him work clearing storm damage from the road, and Vickers accepted. The two men formed a lifelong friendship.
Stephen and his son Elijah “Lige” Coalman would later become legendary for their adventures on Mount Hood. Over time, Coalman became convinced of Vickers’ innocence.
In June, Vickers set up camp at Summit Meadow and explored the area up to the timberline. He swore he would one day reach the mountain’s summit.
Rhododendron Tollgate on the Barlow Trail
Establishing Life at Summit Meadow
At first, Vickers worked as the eastern gatekeeper on the Barlow Road. In time, Coalman convinced him to return to the west side of Mount Hood, promising to help him with legal services if needed.
No charges were ever brought against him.
Vickers loved the Summit Meadow area. He filed a squatter’s claim and started building between his work on the road. In 1866, construction of the Summit House began. The building measured 20x20x32 feet, featuring a huge fireplace, upstairs sleeping quarters, and a large kitchen. Vickers built all the furniture by hand from local materials.
By the spring of 1868, as soon as the snow melted, the Summit House opened for travelers. Vickers provided food and shelter for people and livestock. He often refused payment from settlers who had little to give, earning a reputation for generosity.
Perry Vickers Trading Post at Summit Meadow
A Tragedy at Summit Meadow
In 1882, a tragedy struck Summit Meadow. A baby boy from a wagon party, the Barclay family, became ill and died at the meadow. Vickers granted permission for the boy to be buried there. The grave and headstone still remain today.
Later accounts said that Vickers personally tended the grave, keeping it marked and protected from passing livestock.
Perry Vickers Summit House
A Desperate Man on The Run
For years, Vickers remained at Summit Meadow, aiding travelers and leading hundreds to the summit of Mount Hood. Then, in August of 1883, violence shattered the peace and led to the first Murder on Mount Hood.
A man named Steele, a farmhand near the Columbia Slough, stole a shotgun and fled east. The Multnomah County Sheriff deputized two men, including the gun’s owner, Roarke, to pursue him.
The deputies tracked Steele to Eagle Creek and had their warrant reissued for Clackamas County. They learned that Steele had traded the shotgun for a powerful Sharps rifle.
Despite bad weather, they pressed on through Sandy, stopping only to buy a bottle of whiskey. Reaching the town of Salmon, near today’s Brightwood, they enlisted local trading post owner John McIntyre. One deputy, having fallen ill, returned home. McIntyre was deputized, and the search continued.
Summit House at Summit Meadow
The Final Pursuit
At Summit Meadow, Vickers told the men that Steele had stayed the previous night. Vickers warned them that Steele was a dangerous character and advised waiting until morning to pursue him, suggesting they rest and sober up.
Roarke insisted they continue into the night. Vickers, now deputized, reluctantly agreed to lead them.
They reached the White River Trading Post operated by Cornelius Gray. Beyond the buildings, they spotted a campfire.
Concerned about his companions’ condition, Vickers volunteered to approach Steele’s camp alone. As he rode off, he reportedly quipped, “If you hear me shout, don’t mistake it for the wind.”
Salmon Oregon where John McIntyre was enlisted to chase Steele
The Ambush
Vickers rode toward the fire, confirming it was indeed Steele. As he dismounted his horse, Steele seized the Sharps rifle and shot Vickers in the stomach.
Vickers fell but managed to draw his revolver and fire into the darkness. Believing he might have wounded Steele, he emptied his gun but could not stop the fugitive.
Cornelius Gray, hearing the shots, rushed to the scene. He and others found Vickers gravely wounded, struggling to reload his revolver with trembling hands.
Vickers accused the deputies, Roarke and McIntyre, of cowardice, saying they abandoned him when he needed them most. Witnesses later agreed, noting that their horses had not actually bolted, and their retreat seemed deliberate.
White River where Perry Vickers was shot
The Death of Perry Vickers
A messenger rode to fetch Stephen Coalman, but it was too late. Vickers, lying inside Gray’s cabin, knew his fate.
He mentioned laudanum stored back at his lodge. Gray had nothing in his cabin to relive Vickers’s pain. Vickers acknowledged that no one could help him now. His final request was to be buried next to the Baby Barclay that he helped bury in his beloved Summit Meadow. His final words were reported as, “Tell them I did my best, for the mountain and for the law.”
At 7am, August 19, 1883 Perry Vickers died from his wounds. According to his wishes his body was loaded into a wagon and carried back to Summit Meadow and buried next to the baby.
The Aftermath and Legacy
The Mount Hood community mourned him deeply. Samuel Welch and Stephen Mitchell crafted his coffin, and Oliver Yocum officiated his burial.
Vickers is laid to rest at Summit Meadow, beside the Barclay child he had once shown such compassion toward. Their headstones remain today.
Locals remembered Vickers as “the silent sentinel of Summit Meadow,” honoring his years of guidance, kindness, and service on the mountain.
Soon after Vickers death a “religious eccentric” named Horace Campbell, known as “King David” occupied the Summit House. He rebuilt the Summit House and, behind the structure, constructed a conical shaped wooden teepee with a central fireplace and a smoke hole at the top. It was used by the last wave of immigrants over the old road.
In time, and after many occupiers of the old Summit House, the structure was fell into disrepair and was disassembled and burned on campfires by travelers. First the log furniture and then the structures. Today there’s no evidence that it even existed.
Perry Vickers’s Dog Greeley
Billy Welch, The son of local rancher Samuel Welch, related a sad story about how Greeley, a yellow Newfoundland and Eskimo dog mix owned by Vickers, refused to leave his master’s grave for days. Finally he and Drum, a spotted hound, also belonging to Vickers, were brought to Welches to live with Samuel Welch, who had been a close friend with Vickers for years. It was necessary to keep a close watch on Greeley for days, because he wanted to return up the Barlow Trail to Summit Meadow where is master was buried.
Perry Vickers Grave next to the baby Barclay at Summit Meadow
What Became of Steele After the Murder on Mount Hood?
Stephen Coalman kept Vickers’ blood-stained coveralls for years, hoping they might someday serve as evidence.
Later, a horse thief hanged in eastern Oregon claimed to have killed a man in the Cascade Mountains. It was widely assumed this was Steele.
Coalman, realizing the case had ended, eventually burned Vickers’ coveralls. Thus ended the story of Mount Hood’s first murder—and the enduring legend of Perry Vickers.
Timberline Lodge ‘s first Winter was a rocky one business wise.
“From W. P. Gray The News-Telegram Portland, Oregon 12-23-1937
Two months after its dedication by President Roosevelt, Timberline Lodge on Mt. Hood, Oregon, $650,000 structure built with WPA money, was picketed by skiers who demanded immediate opening of the lodge’s sanitary facilities to skiers. No operator has been found for the massive Alpine hostelry, and “keep out” signs bar all doors. A corporation of Portland business men is reportedly forming to open the lodge. The picketing skier above is Ken Soult.”
Joie Smith was a legend on Mount Hood for 60 years. Her story will be told for years into the future.
Joie was everything from an Olympic skier to a pilot to a tow company owner and operator.
Smith, Joie Reid 85 June 17, 1928 – Mar. 29, 2014
A longtime Mt. Hood resident, Joie Reid Smith, passed away March 29, 2014, at her home in Rhododendron. She was born in Portland to June (Reid) and Oscar Clossett. Her mother married Blasdel Smith after Oscar’s passing. In 1953, she moved to Rhododendron where she operated a ski shop and later a towing business. Joie is survived by her half sister, Gayle Smith Kosel; numerous nieces; and a nephew. Her half brother, Sherrill Smith, predeceased her. A celebration of life will be held from 2 to 4 p.m. Sunday, April 27, 2014, at Mt. Hood Lions Club in Welches. Remembrances may be made to Camp Namanu through Camp Fire Columbia.
Published in The Oregonian from Apr. 11 to Apr. 13, 2014
This video brought tears to my eyes. I’ll miss my dear friend Joie Smith for the rest of my life. I have so many precious memories of our times together.
Thank you to everyone responsible for putting this video together. Thank you to my friend Bill White for his part and for the DVD copy.
James Harlow’s journal entry and photos. Saturday and Sunday, September 19-20, 1931 James Harlow, Curtis Ijames, Cecil Morris, Everett Darr, Dr. Bowles and Ole Lien.
Ole came for awhile at noon, and we made definite plans for the climb up Mt. Hood over this weekend. Then I packed up and went over to Ole’s where we were to meet the fellows from Camas with whom we were going up. They were due at 7:30 but didn’t show up by 9:00 so we made arrangements to go up with Everett Darr and two of his friends. They came by after us by 10:30 and we started by 11:00 PM. Ole and I rode in the rumble seat. Everett’s two friends were Cecil Morris and a fellow named Bowles, a doctor. The car, a Chevrolet Coupe, belonged to Cecil Morris. We were at Government Camp by 12:45 AM Sunday. We didn’t stop at the hotel as Rafferty’s had gone to bed.
It was very foggy from Laurel Hill to Timberline but was mostly clear at Timberline with a 38-degree temperature. The mountain showed up white with a fresh coat of snow. We started on the climb about 3:00 AM with a fellow from Portland, Curtis Ijames by name, making a party of six.
We ran into snow a half mile above Timberline, and put on crampons half way to Triangle Moraine. The snow was well frozen and we hardly sunk in. There was a very heavy west wind and clouds were rapidly blowing across the mountain. The summit was obscured by the first streak of dawn. On Triangle Moraine there was probably an average of fourteen inches of snow piled into drifts, sometimes four or five feet deep. When the sun came up, we saw some beautiful cloud effects, the most wonderful colors I have ever seen.
When we got to Packs Rocks, we were in the fog and the wind tried its best to blow us off into White River Glacier. Upon reaching the first hot rocks, the wind was so hard we could barely move. At times, we just lay down in the snow and anchored ourselves with our ice axes. It wasn’t bad going up on the Crater Rocks drift until we got on the top of it. Then the wind was so bad it took us ten minutes to go 100 feet. The snow was soft, making the going hard. It was foggy most of the time and ice froze on our clothes. It took us quite a while to go the last 1000 feet because of soft snow.
It cleared up before we got to the top of the Summit Ridge. We looked down on a sea of clouds below 8,000 or 9,000 feet on the south and west and scattered clouds on the north and east. Fleecy strings of fog were blowing across the summit with tremendous velocity. And the gusty wind was so strong as to be dangerous. The rocks were ice-covered and the going was very treacherous. The last 200 feet over to the cabin was terrible.
We finally got to the cabin and went in, as the door was unlocked. It was very cold and the fire we lit in the kerosene stove did little to warm things up. We had arrived at the cabin about 11:30, and stayed about an hour. The shack swayed, creaked, and groaned crazily in that wind. The noise was terrific. Leaving about 12:30, we got down the chute okay but got lost in the fog below Triangle Moraine. The snow had softened and made the going very tiresome in the three and four foot drifts.
We finally got on the right path and got down to Timberline by 4:00 PM. Everett, trying to crank Cecil’s car, which started hard, punctured the radiator. We got it started down the road and he could coast nearly all the way to Rhododendron. Ole and I rode into Portland with Curtis Ijames in his Model T Ford delivery. We stopped at Government Camp and got a bite to eat at Rafferty’s so home by 7:30 PM, thus ending a great trip.
James Harlow’s Mount Hood Climb 1931 Journal entry and photos courtesy of Anne Trussell (Harlow), Sacramento, Ca.
