More memories about Oregon Cement
I was so pleased to read the citizen's view by Patrick Bloedorn in the July 28 Lake Oswego Review. Now I have this need to share my personal remembrances of growing up on Church Street and being well aware of the saturation of Old Town being covered by cement dust. My dad, Lloyd Moore, was a truck driver for many years, beginning before 1931, the year of my birth. His brothers Frank, Harry and Cecile also were employed there as drivers. Another brother, Roy, drove the Piggly Wiggly delivery truck to homes in Dunthorpe and Glenmorrie.
Cecile, in his early 40s, fell from a truck while loading cement bags and died. It was decided as I remembered that he probably died of a heart attack.
My grandparents Henry and Idella Moore had moved to Oswego from a ranch in Montana and moved their large family, which had four daughters, into a home on Middlecrest. They later moved to A Avenue between Fourth and Fifth streets.
My mother died when I was nine and so my dad and I lived on A Avenue for a time.
Before I started kindergarten here, my dad was transferred to Lime, Ore., and we lived in Huntington for about a year and a half. During the war, my dad drove the buses to transport people from their Oswego homes to the shipbuilding jobs in Portland. Over the years, he hauled many sacks of cement to Roseburg … returning the same day. He helped build Detroit Dam, among many other projects by delivering Oregon Cement. He was part of the volunteer fire department and it was pretty exciting when the whistle would blow and he just might be the driver of the fire truck.
Best of all, the OPCP had a 'Cement Club House' (where Albertson's now stands). In the field in front of the clubhouse sometimes we would have carnival rides. The Lakewood Grade School classes could arrange to use the clubhouse (under supervision) for Halloween parties, etc. A ballet teacher taught classes there.
Oswego Episcopal Church had its beginning church services there. Mr. William Banks, his daughter Janet and I would help set up the chairs for Sunday services. In spite of the cement dust layer, Oswego was a wonderful place to grow up in. We could always appreciate the lilac tree in the front yard, the roses on the trellis and climbing the apple trees in the farm across the street … wonderful neighbors … and my Methodist Church in the forest.
Loeta Moore McElwee is a resident of Lake Oswego.