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Eunice Van Winkle
by Nancy Colchico

In the County of Contra Costa                                                                                                          But the new name brought no changes
In California,  the Golden State,                                                                                                       To the quiet little spot
Is the town of Port Chicago                                                                                                               With no industry or payroll
And its story I’ll relate.                                                                                                                        Nothing seemed to help a lot.

Where the molded earthen hillsides                                                                                                 Rents were cheap and house neede
Slope gently to the shore                                                                                                                    For the men who worked nearby       
And the river waters billow                                                                                                                 At the Steel Mills- Shell and  Avon
Ever to the ocean’s roar.                                                                                                                      So we had no need to sigh.                                                              
      
There the freight trains trail their boxcars                                                                                       Then came the world’s conflict and turmoil,
Close along the water’s rim,                                                                                                                With a rush the Midwest moved in
And the barges carry cargo                                                                                                                 Oklahoma and Texas and Kansas
Up and down the river trim.                                                                                                                All sent out their work hunting men.

Searching for a western sales yard                                                                                                     The houses were filled to the limit
Came the travelers from Coos Bay                                                                                                       Ten lived where two did before
With their schooners lumber laden                                                                                                    And business on Main Street was booming
Putting into port to stay.                                                                                                                      With cars parked before every store.

Purchasing the marshland frontage                                                                                                    Suddenly great news shocked our senses
From the Cunningham Estate                                                                                                               That the Navy was moving in
Laying out a spacious freight yard                                                                                                       Taking over the Tidelands
Nineteen seven was the date.                                                                                                              Where the old shipyard had been.

First was constructed a club house                                                                                                     Quickly construction was started
To house the working men                                                                                                                     Of barracks, revetments and docks
Quickly followed small dwellings                                                                                                         Our hillsides were hauled to the marshes                                                                       
And “Bay Point” was growing then.                                                                                                      To fill in with dirt and rocks.

Profits from the Town Saloon                                                                                                               As soon as the first dock was finished
Were used to pave the streets,                                                                                                             The loading of munitions began
To put in sewers and sidewalks                                                                                                            To get supplies quickly to war zones
And a Town Hall  for folks to meet.                                                                                                        Was the labor of many a man.

Eucalyptus trees were planted                                                                                                            Having  lived quiet and peaceful
From the far Australia land                                                                                                                        We were hardly prepared for the jolt                                                                                                               
Making shelter from the trade winds                                                                                                   That knocked us out of our warm beds
And warm firewood for man.                                                                                                                   With the force of a lightening bolt.

A school and three churches were erected                                                                                         Untold was the wreck and the ruin
Main  Street was a busy place                                                                                                                  Of windows and roofs and doors
Where neighbors and friends all mingled                                                                                             Scarcely a building was standing
With seldom a stranger’s face.                                                                                                                  But had glass all over the floors.

Many years did Bay Point  flourish                                                                                                         Great was the loss to the Navy
As a small industrial town                                                                                                                           Of its ships and gallant men;                                                                                         
People working-striving -struggling                                                                                                         The townsfolk bound up their flesh wounds
While the wild winds whirled around.                                                                                                       And started all over again.

In 1918 came the shipyards                                                                                                                      To remake their homes and Main Street
To build ships for World War I                                                                                                                    Contractors and workers flocked in
And the drowsy town was wakened                                                                                                       We were a “Boom Town” truly
When the machine shops began to hum.                                                                                                  For the docks were rebuilding again.

But the sudden busy flurry                                                                                                                        Quiet ways have vanished
Ended with the close of war                                                                                                                          Turmoil tramps our streets
And only a few years later                                                                                                                          And in crowded market places
Coos Bay Lumber was no more.                                                                                                                   Old friends we seldom meet.                                                                                        

Followed days of deep depression                                                                                                            Two hundred mushroom houses
Time went slowly step by step                                                                                                                      Have popped up before our eyes
 “Let’s change the name to Port Chicago                                                                                                  Where the silence of peaceful hayfields
It will give the place more pep.”                                                                                                                      Was broken only by sea-gulls cries.

                                                                                                                                                                           Gone are the tulles and tidelands
                                                                                                                                                                             Haunts of the rabbits and ducks
                                                                                                                                                                            And the old swimming hole by the sandbank
                                                                                                                                                                                 Is now a roadbed for trucks.

                                                                                                                                                                            All this clatter and bustle
                                                                                                                                                                            Came to us with World War II
                                                                                                                                                                            Now that the Japs have surrendered                                                                                                                                          
                                                                                                                                                                                What next will the Navy do?

                                                                                                                                                                             So, we are watching and waiting
                                                                                                                                                                                 For a peace-time life again
                                                                                                                                                                             Counting the days and the moments
                                                                                                                                                                                  ‘Til  the glad return of our men.

                                                                                                                                                                             Whatever the future shall bring us
                                                                                                                                                                                  May we meet it with courage true
                                                                                                                                                                              To go onward and forward
                                                                                                                                                                                   And be ready to welcome the new.

                                                                                                                                                                             



The author of this poem is Eunice Van Winkle. She and her husband, Walter Samuel Van Winkle were well educated, business minded members of their community, where most others were hard working, middle class  people who had jobs with industries within the surrounding area. I have written a brief history of the lives of this couple.

Mrs. Van Winkle was born Eunice Beal, a granddaughter of German immigrants. Her father, Fred was a stock raiser in Calaveras County, CA where Eunice was born in 1888 and raised until going off to college.

Walter Van Winkle was born in 1889 in Ohio. He was one of three sons born to William D. Van Winkle and Emma Krebs. The family left Illinois by way of Missouri and  came to settle in Long Beach, CA about 1905 where William D practiced his professions in pharmacy and dentistry.

Walter came north to attend University at UC Berkeley and acquired his Bachelor’s Degree in Mechanics and Agriculture.  He followed that with education from The American Institute of Electrical Engineering.

This is where the paths of the couple came together. Eunice was attending Cal to study animal husbandry with the intention of helping her father on the stock ranch. Walter and Eunice graduated together on May 12, 1912 and quickly followed that with the announcement of their engagement the following year. After their marriage they continued to live in Berkeley where Walter worked for the Great Western Power Company.

The 1920 census found them in Bay Point, CA (Port Chicago) where Walter is listed as an electrical engineer owning his own business (The Bay Point Light and Power Co.).  In the 1930 Census he is listed as the proprietor of the General Store. He was also known to own several properties and, at one time, an interest in a bowling alley in Santa Cruz, CA.

Mr. Van Winkle died on May 3, 1952. After his passing Mrs. Van Winkle could be found daily at the General Store taking care of business with her able assistants, Cecelia Arnold and Mabel Tucker.  She continued to live in the big home on Bay Street with acreage for her many animals.

Eunice Van Winkle was at the forefront in the fight to keep our town out of the hands of the Navy.  She eventually had to leave and I have the memory of seeing her house going down the street in front of our home on its way out to the Nichols area near the Vlach ranch.  She died while living there on April 15, 1978. The couple is buried in the People’s Cemetery in San Andreas, Calaveras, CA

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