Ode to PC Diegel, Part II

So PC Diegel found himself in Portland with a degree, ambition, and  - for a returned sailor -a fair bit of money.  Turns out that his history degree was either the result of or a catalyst for a remarkable memory, and while at sea on the LST to pass the many hours of non-action he and his shipmates played a lot of cards:  mostly poker and bridge.  And playing cards for fun isn’t nearly as much fun as playing cards for money, and he played a lot, and won a lot.  Combined with spending no money for years on the ship he ended up being discharged with a lot of his mates’ cash and then some.  Which enabled him to fairly quickly get the sweet cars of the day and a nice apartment above downtown Portland.  He got some sort of job, and indeed proceeded to start partaking in the peaks, lakes, and grasslands of Oregon I mentioned in the last post.

Fairly quickly Paul found himself in the middle of a community of young folks who worked hard and played hard, and they spent their weekends climbing the local peaks like Hood, 3 Fingered Jack, Washington, Adams, St Helens (in its previous 10,000 foot conical glory), and others.  

Coincidentally – or not – he later saw me living with a bunch of fun folks in a big old house in Northwest Portland post-college that was a virtual hub of funhoggin’ and pointed out that our lives were very similar, just 45 years apart.  Paul C was an active member of the venerable Cascade Ski Club and despite growing up in Kansas quickly became a good skier (on 9’ long hickory skis with non-releasable cable bindings)

that is art in motion. 

and it didn’t take long for his climbing experience to get him to the point where he was a trip leader for the Mazamas. 

Being a strapping young, confident guy he attracted plenty of lady admirers, and – just like his son who lived in pretty much the same ‘hood 45 years later – there was a fair bit of dancin’ around in the community.  But one cute woman who had also moved from the Midwest seeking out fun and adventure seemed to keep herself quite available to him while simultaneously working the field, and they grew pretty close.  

who wouldn't be smitten?

She too was keen to ski, so they did a lot of funhoggin':

Again his stoic nature kept him from being much of a romantic, but when Ginny Denecke kinda threw down and said “Look, I like you a lot, but I’m not waiting around here forever, and I got a bunch of guys – most of whom are your friends – that suit me almost as well” he got the cue that he needed to sort of step up.  Part of the formal courtship was a trip out to Kansas in the ’49 Ford (or somesuch) and this apparently raised some eyebrows when they showed up back in town; an unmarried couple going on a road trip at that time was considered to be a bit risqué.  But they didn’t care and carried on their merry way.  But his conservative relatives needn’t have been concerned; Paul C proposed over the phone with barely-intelligible laryngitis, and Paul and Gin were married in 1954. 

they inexplicably honeymooned in SoCal:

suckin' in that gut!

pensive guy

cracking himself up; a trait his sons picked up....

As mentioned earlier, PC was a big climber guy, and like a lot of climbers in the Northwest 9and around the world) he was lured to the famed Tetons.  One trip was to climb the Grand in 1953, and this photo of him:

Was ultimately a big influencer on the lives of both Paul D and me; our dad looked so badass on top of such an iconic peak, that we wanted to be mountain badasses as well. 

But we didn’t really get encouraged by him to do so.  A year later he and his buddy went to climb the Grand’s little brother Mt Owen, and while I never could really get the details, they got into a bad thunderstorm cycle and stumbled back into camp soggy and still terrified by their ordeal, and when Dad the Alpine Badass got home he literally hung up his axe and said “Never Again.” And he didn’t.  Skiing, hunting, fishing; all fine, but mountaineering was too much.  Ultimately Paul D and I did climb a few of the Northwest’s volcanoes and have dabbled a bit in rock climbing, but ultimately we too really became skiers vs mountaineers.

We did finally become the 2^nd and 3^rd Diegels to reach the summit of The Grand, coincidentally almost 60 years to the day after our dad did:

I tried to assume The Look:

But my attempt at badassery fell woefully short!

Our dad generally had pretty boundless energy and was a bit obsessive, and needed other things to channel his enthusiasm, so he got into…bird dogs.  

Of course; why not?  For some reason he and Gin were drawn to English Springer Spaniel field trials, which is basically judged hunting, and they went big.  Part of field trialing is shooting, and he became a pretty good shot, and was certainly not above holding his wife hostage with his gun if the need arose:

He and Gin gallivanted all over the Northwest to field trials, and their infatuation for the dogs and the sport led them to buy a hobby farm surrounded by fields on the west side of Portland so that they could have plenty of acres to not only have kennels but also to train the dogs, hunt at their leisure, and even raise pheasants and pigeons for the training and the trials.  Their love of all things English Springer Spaniel field trials led them to do a big trip back to ye olde country of England, where they met one of the English legends of field trialing and bought a couple of puppies from them.  One of the puppies (Gin’s) made it home just fine, but inexplicably the other (“Willie”, Paul’s no-doubt, top-breeded champion to be) got lost in the airlines and spent a week flying around the world.   Though Willie was no doubt PC’s favorite dog, he was the only springer I’ve ever seen that had a pretty mean temper, and he chewed up Paul Jr. pretty hard a couple of times; I seem to remember that I was able to avoid the dog’s wrath. 

Ultimately PC’s infatuation with the dog thing resulted in having a handful of American Kennel Club champions and he was awarded the high honor of being asked to be a judge at the national championships in the mid-70’s:

Many years later I met a New England kayaker who was (still is) famous for his gun nuttery (he packed heat in his boat!) and generally-abrasive (but endearing) personality, and his reputation preceded him.  So when we shook hands he surprised the hell out of me by saying (in a thick Mass accent) "oh yeah, Tom Diegel...I knew yo dad.  Good man.  I had a lotta respect fo him."  Turns out JJ was also a springer spaniel guy, and had been a young upstart at that nationals that my dad judged; JJ and his dog didn't do very well there, but my dad did give him a few pointers....

The field trial deal not only was an activity/obsession and an excuse to live out in the country, it was also not surprisingly the center of their social lives.  Since we had fields aplenty and lots of birds in coops right there, our place was always full in the summer months with pickups, barking dogs, and gunshots.  And most days ended with the boys having a gin and tonic with a crushed sprig of mint, but only after gently turning down his enthusiastic offer of Boones Farm Strawberry Hill wine (“it’s really refreshing!”).   And it wasn’t just the boys; Gin and her friend broke into the old boys’ club in the early ‘70’s with dogs of their own, and their friend Janet Christensen is by far, no question the winning-est, most successful springer field trialer in history, with her most recent win coming…last October, so she’s still crushing it in her late ‘80’s! 

Like Janet, PC kept up his enthusiasm for dogs to the end: 

With "Hardy", whom he had to admit after training, judging, and handling dogs was the best dog he'd ever seen (and fortunately for me, also the most loveable!). 

No story about PC Diegel would be complete without, of course, the Triumphs:

But that's another story unto itself, to be continued....