By: Bob Gunter
We sat on the lawn in front of the house that
had meant so much to her.
She, and her three children, had come from
Seattle for a time of remembering. Word that the
old home place was soon to torn down had reached
her and one more visit was in order.
As Jane Bridges, daughter of Claire Whitaker
Gorsline, looked out over the lake her eyes
reflected memories of yesteryear. Most of them
were connected with the home her grandfather and
grandmother, Will and Jeannie Whitaker, had
lived in after arriving in Sandpoint in 1898.
“We loved being here,” she said in a whisper.
“This home was to be shared. Over a period of
years we all came back to the family home—those
wonderful holidays. The house had all we needed
and wanted and I remember the Rogers and Coons
were our neighbors. We were grateful that we
could do everything for ourselves and even when
a section of the house caught on fire it was put
out by our neighbors, you know a bucket
brigade.”
She recalled, “We had so much fun sliding down
the hill on the snow and ice. The lake was not
dammed then and in the winter the lake would be
a long way off but in the summer the water would
come clear up to the shed.” She stated that as
children the things that they remembered was
staying at grandmother’s house. “There was so
much to do there and later on I would come with
my children. We went ice fishing and did all
sorts of things.”
Jane recalled the evening when screaming was
heard coming from the beach in front of the
house. “My grandfather got up and dressed and
went to see what was going on. He saw that an
Indian Brave had been beating his wife and had
put out one of her eyes. He warned the Indian
man that he did not want to see him again in the
village. He and grandmother got help for her and
she asked if she could stay and work for them.
They agreed and offered her a room in the house
but she would not take it. She lived in the yard
in her tipi. I remember all of us children had
to ask permission to go into Sally’s tipi. We
felt special when we could visit her and watch
her do bead work.”
After a time Jane related this story about her
grandmother. “I had three children and lived up
on Pine Street. My mother was ill and
grandmother was caring for her. I got a high
school girl to watch my children and I went to
check on them. When I walked in the house I knew
something was wrong because all the fires had
gone out. My mother thought grandmother was
someplace in the house but after checking she
was not to be found. I heard a little voice but
it sounded like cats mewing. I looked out in the
yard and saw a hand sticking up out of the snow.
My grandmother said that she was afraid the
weight of the snow was going to break the roof
so she started to shovel it off and fell.”
Jane told of the trouble she had getting her
grandmother into the house. She built fires and
bundled her mother and grandmother in all the
blankets she could find. The doctor came later
but it was too late. “Grandmother died that
night. She loved this old house and refused to
leave it when everyone else was moving to the
other side of the creek.”
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