I’ve decided to avoid writing as much as I can about the Trump administration after the outrageous lies excusing the Reflection Pool total fiasco. Probably due to my age, I have been thinking about some past memories that give me pleasure to recall. I’d like to share a couple of them as I remember them. 

Northern State Hospital in Sedro Woolley was an important part of Skagit County for sixty-one years until its closure in 1973. After graduating from Gonzaga law school and beginning my law practice in Mount Vernon, I worked as a deputy prosecuting attorney. One of my duties included mental illness hearings for involuntary commitment to Northern State. The law allowed a temporary hospitalization on certification of two physicians after a hearing with a Superior Court judge. Family members or others would report to the police or our office someone who was exhibiting mental problems. The police would pick them up, and a hearing would follow to determine if there was sufficient evidence to hold them at Northern State for evaluation. The hearings could be a strange adventure with individuals involved not fully functioning mentally. There would be no one present except the judge, two physicians, the individual, and me. Sometimes the hearings were held while the person was behind bars because of their mental state. The individuals would, on occasion, act out. One kept saying to the doctors, “Quack, quack, quack.”

I was also involved with Northern State through my parish. After the assistant pastor, Fr. Michael Schmitt, was assigned to Immaculate Conception parish, he was responsible for Mass at Northern State.  We had become friends when we were both at St Martin’s University before I left for law school. He asked me to accompany him, which I did each week. It could be challenging for him. The patients attending Mass were prone to act out and speak out during Mass, with Father having to control them. I was supposed to assist him, but he had primary responsibility for saying Mass while I was trying to keep order. Mass was often a challenge because of the patients attending. The patients often had unusual backgrounds as well. We had people attending who had spent twenty years or more there. One regular at Mass had the habit of stealing cars parked at the institution whenever he had

the opportunity.  Another had been sent there after shooting several people in Seattle. He told me he remembered walking up to people and asking, “Are you a communist?” If they made the mistake of jokingly saying they were, he shot them. He said he remembered walking into a bar full of African Americans that became dead silent when they saw he was holding a gun. He said he called out, “Are there any communists in here?” and there was momentary silence until someone yelled back, “Hell no. It’s hard enough being black,” so he turned and left. He was still there after I was not involved with the program.

Another memory from the past I have involves attending a Washington State Bar convention in Spokane.

George McIntosh was not only a friend but a real mentor to me in the practice of law for many years. George died in 2023 at the age of 100 years. The Skagit County Prosecutor’s office was located in an office building with offices for other lawyers. Walter Deierlein was

the prosecuting attorney. Harry Follman and I were deputy prosecutors. Other lawyers in the building were Ruben Youngquist, an estate lawyer, George McIntosh, a general practitioner, and Jim Hammack with Clyde Fowler, who had a general practice. There was a shared conference room. On Friday afternoons, George and the prosecutor’s staff would meet in the conference room where we had a bottle of liquor in a filing cabinet. We’d have a little drink while sharing before leaving.

One year in the 1950’s, George decided that Harry and I should go with him to the Washington State Bar Convention in Spokane. We both complained that we could not afford it. George’s memory of that event, in his own words, is as follows

“My offer was to take you and Harry Follman to the Spokane, Washington State Bar Convention for $30 each.  This was back in the 1950s when that was money. What you got for that was payment of registration fee, about a $10_Breakfast prepared by me along with transportation in my red station wagon, plus gas to and from Spokane. My plan was to stay for free in a tent at a county park. I provided the tent with cots, but not sleeping bags. A few special  incidents that happened were these:

We stayed at a county park outside of Spokane and drove to the convention each day. We would get up, shower, have breakfast, put on our suits and ties, and drive into the convention. Other campers seemed mystified by our wearing suits and sleeping in a tent. At the convention, we told any inquirers we were staying at Riverside Arms. Riverside was the name of a county park.

(My note: We were invited to a party in Robin Welt’s Davenport Hotel suite. When he asked us where we were staying, Harry said “ Just outside of town, Robin.”)

You had a sleeping bag about 1/4 inch thick and got so cold in the night that you went through the pockets of our clothes, gathered all the coins you could swipe, and went over to the men’s building, stood under the hot shower, and kept plugging in coins until they were gone.

I had breakfast with orange juice in the tent we were sleeping in. On the third and last breakfast, I poured the last of the orange juice, and with the last ounce, popped out a bunch of insects from inside the container.

One night, we took too much time drinking and drove back to the park late. When we got to the park entrance, the gate was locked.  We had to park on a roadway up above the park and climb down a quite steep incline to get down and into the park. We were in suits & ties, dressed for the convention.

We ran out of gas on the way back to Mount Vernon and were going to have one of us walk back a mile or two to a station.  Then I remembered I had a supply in the gas can for the stove, which was gas without lead or any additives. We debated whether it would work or damage the engine. We decided to use it, and it worked fine.” These are my memories of A pass that bring a smile to my face when reflecting on them. Life has been good to me, and I’ve been blessed in many ways.