Oregon Ranch

History Summaries

The satellite photo above depicts the main body of the Tom D. Guerin cattle ranch property, about 1,600 acres, located at Myrtle Point, Coos County, Oregon. The ranch is bordered by the Middle Fork of the Coquille River on the South (black color), Sugar Loaf mountain on the East (treeline), Highway 42 on the West, and Cemetery Road on the North.

Along the bottom is the Coquille River, and Oregon Highway 42. The "old" Highway 42 (1965?) can be seen above the river, and is now named Guerin Lane. The primary beef cattle were polled Hereford, with a few Angus, Brangus. Longhorn, and Charloais. The red dot on the right denotes the Guerin Ranch driveway.

One can see all the Guerin barns if one looks carefully - Grandma's barn, the West barn, the Stover barn, the Horse barn, the East barn, and the High barn. The ranch house burned to the ground in 1992. The "Mauna Loa" beach club which would be at the very bottom of the photo - what a great swimming hole, with giant mid-river raft.

Grandma Ella Mae and Grampa Harrie Dillingham's driveway can be seen in the photo at Box 24 (left red dot), about 1 inch to the left of the Guerin driveway. The Dillingham's moved to Myrtle Point from 3345 Mentone Ave., Los Angeles, CA in 1956. Anne has confirmed the previous owners were named Shellhammer.

The town of Myrtle Point, OR can be seen in the top left of the photo. It is located about 27 miles inland from the lumber (pulpwood) port of Coos Bay, on the Pacific Ocean.

The distance between the red dots is about 1/4 mile.

Approximate Geodesic Coordinates -
+43.038274 N. Latitude
-124.106390 W. Longitude
"Up" on the map is "North".
Many thanks to the USGS for free noncommercial use of the photo of the giant man wearing a fez, riding a unicycle, in the lower right corner.

  Note

Thomas Dobinson Guerin

Died age 86

Dorothy Guerin

Died age 57

Cheryl Guerin
Married William Griffith

Portland, OR
2 sons - Jeff & Mike Heeren

Anne Guerin
Married Miles Johnson

Eugene, OR
1 son - Grant Johnson

Tom arrived in the early 1940s. He previously had lived on Rose Ave., Los Angeles 34, Calif., just one block west of Overland Ave., on the north (hill) side of the street, just below the Catholic nunnery, where I used to play. He, like Theodore Roosevelt, was somewhat infirm as a child, and he sought to escape the bad air of Los Angeles. The effect of the move on his health was profound and lasting, and he never looked back. I always thought of Tom as a modern day Teddy Roosevelt - overcoming early difficulties, with boundless energy and a fierce work ethic, overwhelming people with his outgoing personality.

I used to visit the ranch every summer during my teen age years (1960s - where I helped build Tom's big corral in 1960, under the direction of Ellis Dement), and I used to take my kids there during summers in the 1970's and 1980's during fair time. What an experience for city-bound folks. Horseback riding, cattle driving, corralling, cattle trucking, loading hay, throwing hay, stacking hay, unloading hay, stacking hay, tansy picking, creek exploring, castrating, pink eye, hoof and mouth, slaughter house (huge pile of skinless heads with bulging eyeballs), etc. A true horror, but the real thing.

Tom and I were bonded on several levels. He married my mother's sister. We both grew up in Palms, CA, a Los Angeles suburb. We both enjoyed a "pull" now and then.

We BOTH had experienced repressive upbringings, Tom from birth, and me from 12 to 18. BOTH of the repressed childhoods were due to excessive religious zeal. In both cases, the religion was the same christian denomination.

This life is merely a test for the next life. And your station in the next life depends upon how well you avoid SIN. ANYTHING that provides pleasure is sin. Especially, sex.

No gambling, no drinking, no tobacco, no movies, no dancing, no card-playing, but most importantly, NO SEX. No sports - you know what boys talk about when they get together. Dancing is just an excuse for proximity.

Spare the rod, and spoil the child. Have a child, and crush his spirit. Deny social skill development. Well, it didn't work on me, and it didn't work on Tom.

At least I was never physically tied to a tree, as Tom was, to prevent him from encountering the devil. Some who cannot cope with physical reality are drawn to the pursuit of holiness, in the extreme.


Tom's two sisters were preachers in LA - Edith and Beth.
Who married two other preachers in LA - Earl and Harold, respectively.
Edie and Earl . . . Beth and Harold.
I remember having to hide all the booze when they visited.

And of course, the annual Coos County fair, which was held in the 4th week of August (now held in July). One could always find "Heimer" entertaining kids at the fair. Elgin Heimer was an old German socialist as far as I could determine. He lived alone, was very frugal, and walked everywhere he went, which was miles daily. His head was shaved bald, and he always wore a red plastic hat with colored buttons attached. His pockets were full of tricks for kids. Even at 85, he would stand on his head for the kids. He was the Pied Piper of Myrtle Point.

The rodeo, the parade, the rides, the food, the exhibits, the animals, the auctions, the 4-Her's (Head, Heart, Hands, Heifers) (I took liberty with "Health") all provided great local color, in contrast with my return to the frenetic work-a-day semiconductor world in Sunnyvale, California.

Familiar names were Caughell, Clarno, Barkley, Dement (Ellis, Sam, Dorothy (Cupertino girl), Diane, Danny), Endicott, Heimer, Laird, Leatherman, Mast, Mullen, Schroeder, Shull, etc.

Ahh, the memories. Tom gave me my first beer in the river pasture, after loading up a load of hay. Even though I was 12, I sure deserved it that day. He wouldn't let Danny Dement or me have too many though - he would have to answer to the women.

I never met an Oregon rancher who didn't drink - and it was always beer and whiskey - still true to what was available 100 years ago.

I remember the time at a Leatherman's party that I dared Celia Caughell to grab a bottle of Jim Beam from the communal kitchen booze table - she blew my mind when she proceeded to do so immediately. That was fun. We may not have quite been teens yet. Many Oregon girls have good attitudes, early on.

And the time I had a few "pulls" of whiskey from the special fifth that Tom kept in the equipment barn. I added water to bring the liquid level up to where it had been. The next day, Tom offered a pull to the visiting Sam Dement. "BLAAHH", Sam exclaimed, as he spit the befouled booze upon the ground. "WATER", he yelled, as if he were poisoned. Tom was incredulous, so he had a pull. It was only seconds until Tom's eyes fell upon me, and the jig was up.

They didn't call Coos County "Boos County" for nothing. Beer and wine could be purchased at the grocery store, but hard liquor was only available at the strange, lime-green building in town - the Oregon State official government spirits outlet. Very weird.

Former ranch hands - John Epperson (ex-jockey), Floyd Endicott, Art Waters, Bill Jewkes from Mentone Ave. in Los Angeles, who drowned during the big flood of 19??, trying to save some bovines . . .

And Poison Oak everywhere. We used to use a "spraying trailer", pulled by the jeep. One person drove the jeep, the other sprayed vile petro chemicals (diesel oil?) from a tractor seat, hitched to the onboard pressurized tank - a stinking, dirty, bouncing ride.

A word about Poison Oak - we once burned a huge pile of long since dead Poison Oak, and apparently the smoke got into my hair. When Grandma Dillingham gave me a big hug, her chin touched my hair. She received a terrible case of Poison Oak, the oozing, dripping kind. Beware! A word to the wise should be sufficient. Dead Poison Oak smoke is just as bad as touching it, if not worse.

Another piece of the ranch property was Bone Camp, about 200 acres near Powers in Curry County, Oregon. This was not far from the historic Dement Ranch at Eckley.