Oregon Experience: Reub Long's Oregon Desert
Remembrances of Reub
By Jim Anderson
Reub Long doing what he liked to do best, teaching people about the Oregon desert. (Photo by Jim Anderson)
My first introduction to the Fort Rock Basin and Reub Long was both cold and warm. Fort Rock in winter is the coldest place I have ever lived. But meeting Reub Long was one of the warmest experiences of my life. He was a great horseman, philosopher, author, storyteller and pal.
Reub introduced me to the Fort Rock Basin and started my love affair with Oregon's sagebrush country. When I left Central Oregon to work as a naturalist with the Oregon Museum of Science and Industry (OMSI) in Portland, I took a lot of Reub Long with me.
Reub could not help enjoying life. It was his very nature to make the most - and best - of every day. Once, after standing on the top rails of a corral above the thick dust covering a bunch of running horses, almost all of them paints, he dropped to the ground as the gate swung shut and announced, "By golly, boys, I'm a rich man; I've got 42 head of horses!"
A woman standing close by looked at him in utter amazement and blurted out, "How could you count all those horses, Mr. Long ... Why ... There was so much dust you couldn't see your hand in front of your face."
Reub looked at the woman almost apologetically and said, "Why it was easy, ma'am, I just counted all the legs and divided by four."
I often traveled to Reub's place with OMSI-sponsored student groups, and he would share his love and respect for the Oregon desert and show off his Indian artifacts. At one of those show-and-tell events, I overheard a young man say, "Boy, I wish he'd lay that spear point down where I could get my hands on it."
Reub heard it too, for he whirled about and said, "I don't know which of you boys wants to steal this point, but if you want it, go ahead an' take it." And with that he laid the beautiful obsidian spear point down on the table along with all the other artifacts. "I'll soon forget it, as I do most everything I lose," he said, and then added, looking everyone in the eye, "But you know what, every time you look at that spear point you'll know you're livin' with a thief."
When we drove away that day I noticed that the beautiful obsidian spear point was still laying on the table right where Reub left it.
During a teacher in-service training program one summer day, we arrived while a typical Fort Rock rain was hammering the desert. Reub often called them "4-inch rains - 4 inches between raindrops." But that day it was thundering rain on BLM land adjacent to Reub's place, but not a drop on his dry-land rye fields.
"Is there a reason why it rains that way out here on the desert?" a teacher asked.
"Yes, ma'am," Reub replied without hesitation. "You see, the Good Lord looks down on us and says, 'I guess I better give them folks in the Rock Valley a little rain ... but I don't need to give any to Reub Long, he's tough."
When Reub and OSU range professor E.R. Jackman wrote their wonderful book, "The Oregon Desert," they asked if I would supply some of my wildlife photos for it. It was a great joy and privilege to do so.
The first time Reub and Jackman came to Portland to discuss the book, they stopped to see me at OMSI while I was giving an owl program in the auditorium. They chose a spot in the back of the room to watch, and when I finished, before the audience could leave, Reub sauntered up and, leaning towards the microphone I was holding, he said, "I'll bet you people didn't know about Jimmy's miraculous recovery, did you?"
That did it. Those that were beginning to leave sat back down in their chairs, while those still sitting looked back at Reub with questioning glances.
"Let me tell you about what happened to Jimmy when he came to live here in Portland," Reub said, taking the microphone from me and giving the audience his 1,000-watt Will Rogers smile.
"Jimmy was living here for a little over two weeks," he went on, "when for some unexplained reason he suddenly went into a coma."
Because of his uncanny storytelling abilities, sometimes you could never tell with Reub whether he was sharing important information with you or telling a tale, and this was one of those wonderful moments. Part of the audience looked at me with sympathy, while others just rolled their eyes.
"Really," Reub said with all seriousness. "Jimmy was laid up for a week and no one knew what was causing the problem."
That, and his serious demeanor, hooked the skeptics. "Well," he rolled on, getting into the rhythm of the story, "Mr. Jackman and I started a book and we wanted to talk to Jimmy about using some of his pictures, so we came to Portland to see him. Imagine our surprise when we heard he was in the hospital!"
I started to feel pretty good because I had never heard this story and didn't know the outcome. I had never been to a hospital and knew Reub was having a great time shooting from the hip with the tale.
"I went right up to Jimmy's room and took one look at him and knew what his trouble was," Reub said, pointing to me. "So Jack and I set right out for Fort Rock and we found the cure."
"We came right back and ran right up to Jimmy's room and while the doctors and nurses watched, I threw a bucketful of Fort Rock sand right into his face."
"What have you done?" The doctor stammered.
"Why, I cured him! Look!" Reub said, explaining, "The only problem Jimmy had was he got waterlogged from all the rain around here. That bucket of Fort Rock sand dried him out and look at that, he's come right to."
The audience reaction was delightful. Some dried their eyes, while others hooted in laughter.
If you want to read how Reub shared his knowledge about the famed "Lava Bears" of Central Oregon with a group he and I were leading, and what fun I had getting a photo of a turkey vulture for Reub's book, read the story I wrote in my book, "Tales from a Northwest Naturalist."
Reub's tired old body is laid to rest in the shadow of Fort Rock, now a state park. If you take the time to visit this beautiful place, you can experience a tiny part of Reub's joy of living when you take a few moments near the parking area to read the plaques containing some of his writings. Then, take a slow walk around the old mud volcano and listen to the laughter of the desert wind carrying memories of "the sage of the desert," Reub Long.
- About the Author:
- Jim Anderson has been kicking around Oregon since he first rolled into Bend on his Harley in the summer of 1951. Since then he's been a naturalist, educator, photographer and author. In the mid-'50s, Jim spent time on Reub's ranch to see if he wanted to be a buckaroo (he didn't).
© 2008 Oregon Public Broadcasting.