I first came to Jefferson in 1943 by a rather circuitous route. My older brother was in the army (World War II), and I came to Hermiston with his wife. From there I went to California to live with my sister whose husband was also in the army. When he was sent overseas, my sister, their baby and I came to Jefferson to live. I’m not sure what the population was then, but it was a very small town: one grocery store, a dime store, a gas station, a post office, and that’s about all. Oh yes, there was a tavern where the fellows could buy a beer. It was in the building now known as Bugsy’s. It was then called simply, The Terminal, and there was also a row of cabins there. We had Greyhound bus service then with buses coming and going several times a day. Only a scattered few teenagers had access to cars. There was also a mail train that came through once a day. A post of some kind, with a hook on it was beside the track and as the engineer slowed down, he would hook the bag of mail on to the post. From there, the mail carrier took it to the post office and distributed it.


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