The John Steiner I Knew
Recollections by Mike Gudge
The following piece was written by Mike Gudge to Henry Steiner’s son, John, after he had passed away at age 99 in April of 2012. It was John Steiner who provided the knowledge, old world skills, and leadership in the renovation and reconstruction of the 1937 Steiner Log Church, as well as other structures.
So long John, I guess only now do I “really” begin to understand what a ride you and I had. Looks like about 34 years of a close bond and friendship as well as a working relationship for most of those years. As it was happening, it seemed that the Church restoration and the building of our adjoining structures were just projects, I hired you, I paid you, I worked “for” you! Not the normal situation but it seemed right by me, you had the expertise and I was helping, to learn and to cut the cost! It all came about so gradually it seemed “almost” effortless and our collection of buildings just grew, one small step at a time.
Our accomplishments were monumental, to myself, but with you at the helm, I was just along for the ride to help and learn as we went. Looking back I can't believe what we accomplished. Just a job for you but an incredible legacy that you left to myself, and as caretaker, I will leave it to future generations. This legacy will be here for a long time, you built to last, to be admired, and to be used and enjoyed!
This might be a bit repetitious but I want to give you a few excerpts from my write up for the Mt. Hood Cultural Center and Museum in 2005. I will try to give you a little insight to the “man”, and happenings that I will recall and treasure forever. This is John as I remember our years together and as I see and treasure him.
The legacy he has left, and the unforgettable memories I will cherish forever, of a truly great friend and a truly good person. I have the utmost respect and admiration and love for this truly unforgettable person, John Steiner.
John could pretty much handle the log work we did, alone, it was just fortunate for me that I was able to work and learn with this master craftsman. I worked every step of the way with John on all of these projects, he taught me, he scowled at me, he drank beer with me and once in a while he praised my work. John was a task master, he didn't say much unless you asked questions, then he was very patient and would explain the answers but when he says something, you'd better listen, he wasn't much on repeating himself.
John was an old world craftsman who had perfected his craft over the years with the mind of a mathematician and the inventiveness of a genius. He was a stubborn German, he growled and snapped, traits he picked up in the school of hard knocks in trying to survive in a not always friendly world, but I can attest to this as a fact, John had a heart of gold and if he was your friend, he was your friend forever and I wouldn't trade him for the world!
As a rule, John worked eight hours a day with me, then as years went on and he edged into retirement, it was seven hours, then six. These were good full work hours, maybe a short break to eat an apple and a pretty strict 30 minutes for lunch, then at the end of the day, he'd lay down his tools, we'd have a beer and he was gone. It always seemed though that he would leave me with 3 or 4 hours of cleanup or preparation for the next day. My days were longer than John's and I guess I was intimidated enough to make every effort to get these things done, “for John”. It was my project, I was paying him but in my mind, I felt I “had” all this work to do after John left for the day! I most always got the work done, although I never got much noticeable recognition the next morning, unless I “didn't” get it done. Then all I got was a “growl” but that was enough that it didn't happen very often.
After grueling days of peeling logs when we started building the shop, John took pity on me and “built” me a draw knife out of a planer blade. He built handles and all, ended up building one for himself too, not quite so heavy. These homemade draw knives were much heavier than the standard draw knives and saved your back and arms and cut through knots a lot easier. He knew what he was doing! I recall lying in bed when the alarm would go off in the mornings and praying that he would have a cold or the flu and not show up! He ran a tight ship, and he was never sick! Any time spend admiring our work was done by me, “after” John had left for the day. This was just another log job for John!
I'm pretty meticulous with my work and had never really worked with log building before so when I would comment to John about “plumb” and “square” with relation to how our work was fitting together, he'd bark back at me that we would use shingles for shims and to fill gaps. We were using chain saws to make our cuts and you could only get so close with a chainsaw. He was moving the job along, saving me time and getting the job done. No one would ever see a single shim or wedge here and there, so let's move on. He knew what he was doing, in spite of my concerns! In the end, I look back at the work we did, he was right! He could have dragged the job out and made a lot more money but he wanted to keep moving, he had other jobs to get to! It wasn't very often he would join me and step back to admire the work we had done, he just kept “doin”!
I remember approaching John when I wanted to build the shop. I had spent many, many months planning, sketching, measuring just exactly what I wanted in a shop. It was pretty good size and when I approached John and said, “it's pretty good size, John”. I had thought it might be a bit more than he wanted to tackle, it wasn't just a garage. I said, “it's 64' x 64'. Says John, “oh, that's not so big”! Come to find out, John was used to building structures and sheds for Vanport Mill in Boring that would be 100 or 150 feet in length or width and two stories tall or more! As it turned out, John made only one structural roof change and away we went!
When I wanted a wood shed, again I was afraid he wouldn't want or wouldn't think I would need such a large structure. I used the size of his own extra deep, three car storage/wood shed for a comparison and cautiously put the 30 x 40 measurements to him. As soon as he had absorbed that, I hit him with the raised peak so it became essentially two stories. He agreed but I was cautious in my proposal.
Then, what was undoubtedly his last log structure of any size, was the gazebo. I presented my plan which was an eight sided, 30 feet in diameter and without a center post design. He balked at not having a center post, “too much trouble to build it that way”! I told him I couldn't accept a center post and we just dropped the subject for the time being. I was disappointed and wondering what to do next. The next day John came up and showed me how we could build it without a center post. Obviously he had dwelled on the project the previous night, wanted to build the gazebo, and came up with a plan. I might add that, without admitting it, John might have realized he wasn't going to be doing much more log work and he really took some special steps, took some extra effort with special joints and cuts and implemented his “post less” design to make this a “special” gazebo. It is special!
I asked John once why he didn't build a log home for himself in that I knew he had built his own home. His only comment was that “it's too much trouble”!
Well, it wouldn't have been much of a task for John, but it is a challenge to try and cut, plumb, and square, with chainsaw cuts on tapered logs, different diameters on either end. How do you “plumb” an upright log that is 14 inches at the bottom and 12 inches at the top? It can be done, and John could show you how! I may not have seen or learned them all, but I worked with the master who had all the skills and tricks of the trade to put up many a monument, many a legacy, works of art for the viewing and living pleasure of so many, for what will hopefully be an eternity. What a guy, what friend, without a doubt the most influential and unforgettable person in my life. So long John, until we meet again!
Mike Gudge