I grew up in Oregon, and for me, lumber and railroads are inextricably linked. While the first rail lines in the state were aimed at connecting the rest of the nation to Asian trade, it was Oregon’s forests that supplied much of the actual freight handled.
One of the most infamous examples comes from Oregon & California Railroad, founded in the 1860s. It was meant to connect its namesake states and, like many projects of the 19th century, it was given a generous land grant. The idea was railroads that received grants would sell their land to new settlers who would, in turn, increase the Western population and construct farms and ranches. In the case of O&C, however, much of the land granted was covered in thick forests of Douglas fir, ponderosa pine, and western hemlock. In addition, much of these forests were on the steep slopes of the various mountain ranges that separated the Beaver State from its southern neighbor. This meant that these lands would make for poor farming, even if they were cleared of timber.
O&C’s solution? Sell the lands to commercial logging firms and, to a lesser extent, mining operators. This seemed like a smart move, for the resulting forest products and minerals would logically travel on the railroad’s lines. Unfortunately, this was also counter to the intent of the land grants, and by the early 20th century, several legal battles played out among the state, various county governments, and O&C’s eventual parent company, Southern Pacific. Ultimately, the railroad lost and the lands returned to federal ownership. This was, however, only a partial loss, as nearly half a century of land sales had cemented much of the southwest portion of the state into a timber economy, and those timber products tended to travel on Espee rails whether the railroad owned those lands or not.
But this is all, in a way, ancient history, or at least it was in the Oregon I grew up in. By the 1980s and 1990s, the once vast timber industry had shrunk considerably. Some of this was due to changing environmental regulations and increased scrutiny of timber sales on public lands. Much more, however, was due to the consolidation of the forest products industry, as mergers created even larger operations and closed down duplicative facilities. Once a staple of the state’s railroad system, the mountain branch line to a sawmill (and attendant mill town) began to slip away.
Consider Valley & Siletz, a 40-mile common carrier laid out in the early years of the 20th century. This short line served the Valsetz Lumber Company mill constructed in the heart of the Coast Range, at the terminus of the line. By the end of the 1950s, the company was bought out by Boise Cascade, which in turn operated the mill and railroad another 20 years. By the late 1970s, there wasn’t enough timber left to support operations. Over-harvesting and consolidation took their toll. The railroad went defunct in 1978, and in 1983, Boise Cascade closed the mill. In a dramatic bit of risk management, it evicted all the tenants of the old lumber town of Valsetz and burned it to the ground.
This is not to say that the timber industry has died out in Oregon, nor that lumber no longer moves by rail; far from it. To stand trackside in the state is still to smell the heady mix of creosote, diesel fumes, and freshly sawn pine and fir. The Roseburg Forest Products mill at Riddle is one of the largest in the world, producing engineered lumber and plywood. Most of its products move out in centerbeam flatcars on Central Oregon & Pacific (made up from former SP lines). While the era of picturesque branch lines serving large mills in remote company towns may be behind us, the era of timber railroading is not quite over. Visit any of these remaining operations in the Pacific Northwest, and you’ll be excused if you feel the presence of a few ghosts from the past.
—Alexander Benjamin Craghead is a transportation historian, photographer, artist, and author.