Looking at Aurora, Oregon’s Willamette River railroad crossing today, it’s easy to think that when the railroad reached the river, they built a bridge. But the real engineering challenge began long before the water. That’s because the land beside the river was low and therefore prone to flooding. This meant a railroad could be washed away simply by rising water.
That was major problem #1 and this meant the stretch of land between Aurora and Wilsonville was unsuitable for a railroad. Yet it gets worse, because here’s the thing: The Willamette crossing at Aurora wasn’t simply about crossing the Willamette River. The real challenge was getting trains up, over, and back down. That was major problem #2. So how are you going to address both of these mammoth and seemingly intractable issues? Click on the video to find out in Part 2 of this interesting series.
People camping just outside of Aurora, Oregon today are enjoying life at the site of an erased civilization. They have no clue they’re standing at ground zero of the most violent, destructive natural disaster in Oregon’s recorded history. Click the image below for Part 1 of this compelling story.
And though it remains the granddaddy of them all…you’ve never even heard of it….even with the epicenter nearby. And while Aurora’s town and rural areas were hit hard, outskirts like this were wiped virtually clean. There were winners and losers, with one nearby community holding on and the other now inhabited mainly by passing tourists, with no idea of what happened. So what was this disaster and why haven’t you heard about it? This is the battlefield of a community that fought…and lost badly …with that big battle occurring under a frightening set of events.
BIGGER THAN 1996 Whether it’s an earthquake, lightning strike or flood, natural disasters each tend to provide their own frame of reference. Many Oregonians recall the 1996 flood in much of the Willamette Valley. That regional soaker became a benchmark for water disasters. Yet here’s what’s left out: There’s a flood by comparison that was worse…and it isn’t even close. The flood of 1861 stands as the all-time record holder for the most disasterous on the Willamette River. That 1861 flood barrelled through at 635,000 cubic feet per second, being half again worse than the 1996 flood and packing more than seven times the punishing power of Niagara Falls.
AREA MAP: LAY OF THE LAND
CALM BEFORE THE STORM The 1861 Willamette River flood was the result of a perfect storm: A ‘Pineapple Express’ weather event that unfolded in two distinct phases. Because November, 1861 was unusually cold and snowy, first came heavy snow accumulation. Then the situation got worse…much worse…because after that massive snow drop, next came a tropical cyclone with strong winds…and that part happened fast…with most of the warmer rainfall compressed into just 72 hours, rapidly melting the dense snowpack.
The result? Flash flooding…which is what made the 1861 disaster so devastating. It triggered a sudden surge of runoff into the Willamette River, with a flow greater than the mighty Mississippi, raising water levels to record highs. As a result of that thousand year event, much of the Willamette Valley became a freshwater ocean…the size of 273,000 football fields and more than half the size of Rhode Island.
WHEN THE RIVER BECAME A WEAPON In 1861 around Aurora, water was cresting by December 5th. Yet the real damage was just getting started, because here’s something people don’t realize: Water alone wasn’t the deadliest part. That’s because the Willamette River was now weaponized. Water cresting, the river was armed and dangerous, fully loaded with a quiver of mountain timber. Soil now softened, fir trees were uprooted and fell like dominos, then raced torpedo-like with the fast running current. Local Butteville pastor Reverend Michael Fackler wrote in amazement about pitch-black currents carrying massive fir logs up to 200 feet long.
SHOWDOWN AT GRAHAM’S FERRY Graham’s Ferry was at a critical bend in the river and where colossal trees were turning into battering rams. They tore ferry cables, leveled orchards and pushed buildings over with ease. Imagine waking up in the freezing darkness of December to the sound of roaring water and 200-foot missiles snapping your house in half. Use heavy, low-frequency “thuds” and wood-splintering sound effects in the audio mix. Timber pierced through the current, slamming into lowlands around Graham’s Ferry and Butteville Road to devastating effect. The sheer force of massive logs, swinging Paul Bunyan-like, clubbed everything in their path, leaving heaps of scattered lumber across French Prairie as the water receded.
FLOODING AND FIGHTING By December 1861, the United States was entering its first, bloody Christmas of the Civil War as President Abraham Lincoln struggled to heal the fractured Union. Back east, soldiers prepared for the brutality of battle by digging trenches in Virginia. But here in Oregon, pioneers fought a very different enemy, digging out from the massive heaps of French Prairie mud covering where their towns used to be. As Civil War soldiers raced toward each other, in Oregon, survival depended on racing from a rising river.
At Champoeg—the very birthplace of Oregon’s first government—the water reached a mind boggling 30 feet depth. Famous as the site of Oregon’s first provisional government, Champoeg was submerged under about 30 feet of fast-moving water. Every structure was swept away except for the Hudson’s Bay Company warehouse.
AFTERMATH During the late 1800’s, railroads gradually replaced the steamboat for transporting the area’s freight and passengers, with Champoeg declining as a trade center. Some residents attempted to rebuild, but another flood decades later permanently ended their efforts as the buildings at Champoeg were again swept away. The hopelessness of re-establishing a town at Champoeg was eventually understood, leading to its abandonment in 1892. Champoeg is now a State Park.
Steamboats at Champoeg, Oregon
WINNERS AND LOSERS Yet an Aurora area community survived…and though it’s small, it’s still here. That place? Butteville, Oregon.
So what about another nearby French Prairie area, like nearby Donald, Oregon? Donald didn’t even exist then, developing into a town decades later. As a result, damage to that area was pretty much limited to what was then largely French Prairie farmland.
WHY DID CHAMPOEG DIE WHILE BUTTEVILLE SURVIVED? Geography helped. Champoeg wasn’t destroyed because it sat dramatically lower than Butteville. Instead, it was just a few extra feet of elevation. Yet when floodwaters spread across French Prairie, that made all the difference. This hill just outside of Butteville—known by its French Prairie derived name of La Butte is a hard volcanic basalt escarpment that gave Butteville its name. At 427 feet elevation, it doesn’t seem that tall. Yet this seemingly non-descript hill would have represented higher ground to those seeking refuge during the 1861 flood. The elevation of La Butte was above the 30-foot floodwaters that also completely obliterated the lower-lying town of Champoeg.
Along with Champoeg, the 1861 flood completely destroyed several other Willamette Valley towns, mills and bridges never designed to withstand such pressure. A few of these were:
1. Linn City: The bustling mill town of Linn City was swept away and eventually replaced by the town of West Linn.
2. Orleans: Just across the Willamette River from Corvallis, Orleans was completely washed away and never re-established.
3. Santiam: A short drive from Albany, the town of Santiam is another community erased by the 1861 flood and and never rebuilt.
So the next time you’re driving around Aurora between Butteville and Graham Road along Butteville Road, or camp at nearby Champoeg Park, look around. You’re on the site of Oregon’s greatest-and most forgotten-disaster.
It’s a story with all the workings of a well hidden caper. That’s because under the cover of night, this true event featured an elaborate undercover operation…with a secret hideout near Boones Ferry Road on the outskirts of Aurora, Oregon, including a unique transportation hub to evade detection. The stakes are also high and law enforcement is hot on the heels of criminals and actively working to track them down. Except this is one story you’ve never heard before.
TheSetting: 1930’s Aurora, Oregon It’s the evening of October 3, 1936 and federal authorities are readying a criminal takedown. But this isn’t a misdemeanor sting on a few two bit punks. The men on these outskirts of Aurora, Oregon, are smugglers, with their center of operation a short strip of land between current day Charbonneau and nearby Boones Ferry Landing. It’s the length of maybe a few football fields. From there, they move their contraband across the Willamette River, north to Wilsonville and on to greater Portland.
Law Enforcement: On The Case The information given to law enforcement involves a liquor distillery on the periphery of Aurora, with that liquor traveling across the Willamette River to Wilsonville. With this tip, officers begin their surveillance from the Wilsonville side of the river. Their surveillance pays off big-time, as the lawmen notice a heavily loaded truck cross the ferry to Aurora’s backyard known as French Prairie on the north end of Oregon’s Willamette Valley.
French Prairie Located south of the Willamette River, the area was settled in the 1800’s by French-Canadian frontiersmen and trappers. It became a strategic crossroad for smuggling contraband. That’s because roads and rivers have long been plentiful around Aurora. The old Pacific Highway — now called Highway 99E — passes through town, connecting Portland to Salem. Boones Ferry Road has also long connected both of those major cities. As for waterways, both the Pudding and Willamette rivers meander past Aurora. Each route gives moonshiners options to evade government detection. For lawmen trying to intercept illegal hooch, it becomes a ‘cat and mouse’ game.
Getting the Lay of the Land After a few nights of watching, law enforcement spots the same truck again crossing from Wilsonville on Boones Ferry Road. It then takes Boones Ferry across the Willamette River. Officials follow it to the old Wagner farm, now part of present day Charbonneau, but then the site of a distillery and storage facility.
Hide & Seek As officers watch from a nearby field, one early distillery giveaway is the smell of fermenting mash. Sounds emanating from a water pump also revealed what was for that time a state-of-the-art mechanized well. Law enforcement then observes trucks leaving with lights off. It’s then a short drive from the distillery to Boones Ferry Landing, then across the Willamette River, back to Boones Ferry Road on the Wilsonville side and north to Portland. Minimal road exposure means little risk of being spotted by passing lawmen on a main highway. And by operating without lights, it’s clear the smugglers know their way around…even in the dark.
Secret Sauce Over multiple nights, officers observe even more heavily loaded trucks, plus a car driving in and out of the Wagner farm property. Further surveillance finds men unloading bulky items at the distillery, then loading what appear to be containers of liquor. The crooks are clever to avoid detection on the road…and in hiding their distillery, too. That’s because their distillery is located within a separate enclosure, surrounded by a high fence of chicken wire. It also has an early warning system, plus a yard gate, approachable only through the Wagner residence.
Law Enforcement Takedown Fast forward To the night of October 3,1936, when just before the bust, federal officials hear the perpetrators comment “We’ll run the mash tomorrow night,” with mash a key ingredient for making moonshine liquor. One officer then notices a still and related paraphernalia, including an industrial size 25 pound package of yeast, another component of home brewing. But to these federal officials, most noteworthy is the bottle containing an amber colored fluid, classic for whiskey, with no revenue stamps attached. This is the felony act.The entire operation is soon disrupted for good. Federal agents move in with their raid when one defendant walks out of the building to retrieve yeast, returns to the building and is arrested while entering his car. Several other men on the Wagner farm are then arrested.
White Lightning What’s significant isn’t so much that this arrest happened, but WHEN. That’s because it occurred AFTER Prohibition, once alcohol use had again been legalized. That irony is deep as the nearby Willamette River. So what gives? One word: Taxes. So the men running liquor through the hinterlands of Aurora weren’t violating Prohibition laws. Instead, given their possession of four gallons of moonshine whiskey, they were violating federal tax law, the liquor tax act. The actual charge was the removal, concealment and transportation of non-tax paid liquor, the same kind of federal tax beef that sealed mafia kingpin Al Capone’s fate when government couldn’t make his other mob-related charges stick.
Prohibition Over The case is decided years after Prohibition’s 1933 repeal. By then, the public had largely moved on from arguments about alcohol. Bootlegging arrests began as front-page news during the 1920’s, because that was part of a national discussion on Prohibition. Yet by 1937, that argument was settled. This meant that a moonshine bust around Aurora was now more of a tax evasion case, not a referendum on drinking alcohol.
What Happened To The Distilling Defendants? District Judge James Fee renders his decision on March 22, 1937, giving the ringleader four years of hard labor at McNeil Penitentiary in Washington State. His associates were given lesser sentences and the farmowner received a suspended sentence, but required to pay a hefty fine for the unpaid tax value of all the liquor accounted for.
Sentence Appealed The main character’s four year sentence is later appealed on Fourth Amendment grounds about unwarranted search and seizure, but that challenge fails, finding officials had sufficient probable cause for search and seizure of alcohol without the payment of required federal tax. History lives on. That’s because the Wagner farm was later annexed into Wilsonville’s Charbonneau neighborhood on the Willamette River’s south bank. The district traces its name to Jean Baptiste Charbonneau, a son of Sacagawea who traveled with his mother on the Lewis and Clark Expedition as an infant.
The Site Today Even now you can observe an existing remnant at the center of this distillery drama near the former Wagner farm site. Passing through Charbonneau’s northern section on the appropriately named French Prairie Road, you’ll see a tall wooden structure. That’s the old Wagner farm well location, sitting on the same land where a hidden distillery operated behind a chicken wire fence, as trucks ran without lights on their way to Boones Ferry Landing…and where federal officers smelled fermenting mash, as they monitored the scene from a neighboring pasture. Ironically, those same grounds are now part of a posh golf community.
Part of that same Wagner farm was once owned by someone with a storied Boone connection, since it was once part of the Boone family’s long held land claim. So Chloe Boone, great granddaughter of Daniel Boone, married Oregon’s last territorial governor, George Curry. Part of that Curry House land later became the Wagner farm where the takedown occurred. So the next time you’re driving on the outskirts of Aurora near Charbonneau, consider taking a pleasant detour and observe what remains of this interesting local history. You can also learn about the origins of Aurora, Oregon’s historic Boones Ferry in the video below.
