The Northwest Genealogist: February 2024

Almost everyone in the little town of Aumsville, Oregon, knew or knew of Ted Cupp. The elderly but robust man could be seen walking or riding his bicycle almost daily to the local fire department to share a cup of coffee and stories with the crew or sitting in the shade of the maple tree in front of his farmhouse on the outskirts of town visiting with whoever dropped by. He had a smile and waved to people he passed by or a dog treat ("Chomps") in his pocket for his four-legged admirers.

I had the good fortune to not only know Ted but to be able to call him “Dad” as I married into the family in 1981. And even when that marriage ended 13 years later, Ted and Maxine treated me as one of their own, taking the place of my parents when they died unexpectedly a few years later. But if, as Forrest Gump says, life is like a box of chocolates, then people like Ted are like a cake: You can’t tell the layers and depth of a person’s life unless you look beyond the outer frosting. Ted’s life, I found, was like a much-layered cake. It is a cross-section of an American story of the 20^th century consisting of that generation’s patriotism, work ethic, faith, and loyalty—traits rarely understood by today's younger generation. But if you were to ask him, he’d tell you he was just an ordinary man doing what needed to be done.

A MAN NAMED TED

Theodore Thomas Cupp was the oldest son of four children born to Judd and Blanche Cupp in late 1925. Judd was a farmhand, which, in the pre-Depression years, meant that the family moved often to find work. They lived primarily between Salem and Gervais until Judd found work at the Salem Weyerhaeuser mill. Things seemed to be looking up, but when Ted was eight years old Judd died suddenly and unexpectedly from a perforated stomach ulcer. Overnight, life became very hard for Ted’s family. His mother got a housekeeping job at a local hotel. Ted worked odd jobs after school, cutting firewood, delivering newspapers, and delivering groceries for the nearby grocery store, where he carried credit for his mother to buy groceries. It’s possible that they received some help from Ted’s local aunt and uncles, but for the most part, they were on their own.

WORLD WAR II

S2c Ted Cupp

On a cold Sunday morning in December of 1941, Ted and all of America awoke to the unthinkable: The Japanese had attacked Pearl Harbor, pulling the United States into World War II. Ted and his friends eagerly awaited the day they could enlist to serve their country. That day came in May of 1943 when Ted and four other Salem 17-year-olds enlisted in the Navy. He didn’t graduate from high school; that day wouldn’t come until 68 years later when he would receive an honorary diploma to a standing ovation from what is now North Salem High School.

Ted was promptly sent to the Puget Sound Naval Shipyard near Bremerton, Washington, where the aircraft carrier USS Enterprise CV-6, nicknamed “The Big E,” was undergoing repairs sustained in the South Pacific. By November, they were back in the South Pacific, where the Enterprise would be put to work for the coming year. Ted was listed as a Seaman 2^nd Class (S2c) and would have worked as a boilerman in the engine rooms to produce power for the great ship.

THE BIG E


Ted & his brother Hoyt

In 1944, the Enterprise served in the South Pacific, including the Marshall and Marianas Islands, the Philippines, and Formosa. She earned the nickname “The Galloping Ghost” due to her ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere, striking the enemy and then disappearing again due to its speed, agility, and the skill of her pilots and crew. In March 1943, while in the South Pacific, Ted was promoted to Fireman 2^nd Class (F2c). He stayed in that position until he was promoted to Fireman 1^st Class (F1c) in March 1945.

Enterprise's first strikes of 1945 were against airfields in Luzon, Philippines, followed by raids into Indochina and strikes on shipping and installations along the Indochina and South China Sea coasts. Enterprise then took position off Iwo Jima, attacking nearby enemy airfields and providing close air support for the Marines who landed on February 19—on Iwo Jima, 5931 Marines, 881 sailors, and over 20,000 Japanese defenders died.

On May 14, Ted and his crew witnessed probably one of the most horrifying events of their enlistment. Shortly before 0700, a Kamikaze bomber dove on Enterprise, flipped over, and plunged through Enterprise's flight deck just aft of the forward elevator. The explosion sent the 15-ton elevator rocketing 400 feet into the air, wounding 72 men and killing 12. The Big E never left her station or lost speed, but her fighting efficiency was compromised, and on May 16, she withdrew from combat. She would not return to the war. Returning to Pearl Harbor, she received a hero's welcome before returning to Bremerton two days later, where she was repaired and overhauled. She was moored to Pier 6 in Puget Sound Navy Yard when Japan surrendered on August 14, 1945.

Kamikaze hitting the USS Enterpriseoff Okinawa May 14, 1945

By then, Ted was 19, but the war had matured him beyond his years. Like the Enterprise, he would not return to the sea. He remained stationed at Puget Sound until the expiration of his enlistment in November of 1946.

LOVE AT FIRST FIRE

During his time in the Navy, Ted sent his pay home to help his mother care for their home and his sisters. Now home, Ted moved in and took it upon himself to make some long-needed repairs. He also reconnected with his high school buddies with whom he had enlisted four years earlier. They heard that the city of Salem was hiring firefighters, so they applied and were hired.

Maxine "Teen" Cupp

Ted met his future wife, Maxine Pybas, at one of his first fires. Maxine had recently moved to Oregon and was babysitting her sister’s children when there was a fire. Ted saw Maxine and was smitten! After working up his nerve, he asked her to attend the annual fireman’s gala ball with him. She agreed, and they were married a few months later. Family stories still refer to their first meeting as “Love at first fire.”

A year after Ted and Maxine married, their first son, Dennis Michael (Mike), was born. He was followed five years later by another son, Gary Don, and then another son, Keith Brian, born three years later. He was a stern father, which often caused contention between him and his sons, but even when they didn’t see eye-to-eye, his boys picked up the hard-earned qualities Ted had learned during the war. After all, the Navy had been his father, and he raised his sons with that same structure and resolve. Around his grandchildren, though, he was less stern and more fun-loving, leaving them with memories of camping, fishing, and his repairs of farm tools with baling wire and duct tape that will bring smiles to their faces for the rest of their lives. Ted and Maxine loved their grandchildren intensely, celebrating all the major landmarks of their journey into adulthood.

CAPTAIN TED CUPP, SALEM FIRE STATION NO. 1

Ted Cupp, left

In 1964, Ted was promoted to Captain of Salem Fire Station No. 1. He had already served almost half his career as a firefighter, making skills he learned during the war and on the job an invaluable asset to the community. Those skills and his unflinching calm under pressure were demonstrated at a fire at the Boise Cascade paper plant in 1981. Salem firefighters were called to a blaze beneath a 1,000-gallon propane tank that was nearly full. Firefighters described flames curling from the bottom of the tank while a ball of flame shot out from the end of a twisted hose. While Salem Police diverted traffic from nearby Commercial Street, firefighters sprayed the tank with a wide spray of water from about 50 feet away from the tank to cool it. After about 10-15 minutes, Ted reached under the tank and turned off the gas, averting a potentially massive explosion that would have involved a square city block. He didn’t consider himself a hero: He had a job to do, and he just did it. This attitude earned him the nickname “TC Hero” at the fire station.

In 2000, Ted and 100 of his WWII veteran friends, including his high school chums who were later hired by Salem Fire Department, began meeting every year to catch up with one another and reminisce about their shared past. Year by year, their numbers dwindled until 2018, when there were only two: Ted and his friend Ray Tompkins, a Gunner’s Mate in the Navy during the war who worked with Ted at the fire department. Ray would be the last man, number 100, to survive the group passing away in 2020.

Ted & Maxine on the farm

Ted retired from the Salem Fire Department after 33 years of service. Following the death of his Uncle Hoyt and Aunt Stella Cupp, he bought their 1910 farm along Mill Creek on the west side of Aumsville, Oregon. Ted and Maxine worked hard to make it a home and a working farm, growing corn, strawberries, fruit trees, vegetables, and Ted's beloved cows. Ted was active in the community and would speak to the Aumsville Elementary School children about World War II and the importance of honor, duty, and service. He became a trustee at the Aumsville Wesleyan Church and volunteered at the Aumsville Fire Department, sharing his firefighting experience and advice with the new generation of firefighters. In 2014, Ted was honored as Grand Marshall of the town’s annual Corn Festival, leading the parade through the streets of Aumsville.

THE FARMER

Ask any of Ted’s family, and they will tell you he had a routine—a lifestyle no doubt picked up by his years in professions requiring a structured schedule. At about 6 am, he’d arise, make a fire, put on the coffee, and then head out to feed his cows. Once back in the house, he’d have breakfast and coffee while reading the morning paper with Maxine, then go for a walk or ride his bicycle to the Aumsville Fire Department (usually to have more coffee and exchange stories with the fire crew). Then it was back home to cut firewood, work in the garden, or do any number of the other things he did around the house. By noon, he would have lunch before finishing his chores, often stopping to chat with friends or family who would inevitably stop by for a visit. Promptly at 5 pm, Maxine would have dinner on the table, after which he’d call the cows back in (“Come Bode!”) for their evening meal before settling in for some television or reading before bed. This was his schedule, and the routine rarely changed. Truly, you could pretty near set your watch by his schedule!

“END? NO, THE JOURNEY DOESN’T END HERE. DEATH IS JUST ANOTHER PATH. ONE THAT WE ALL MUST TAKE.” --J.R.R. TOLKIEN

On August 2, 2018, after his morning coffee, Ted told Maxine he was going to visit the neighbor across the street. Maxine, finishing up something in the house, said she’d join him shortly. Moments later, she heard the screech of tires outside. Ted lay in the street after being struck by a car. The stunned ambulance crew transported him to Salem Hospital, where a few hours later he passed away from his injuries. He was 92 years old. It remains unknown why the accident occurred, considering he had crossed that road many times over the previous 40 years.

After Ted’s death, Maxine continued to live on the family farm until she passed away from cancer the following year at the age of 91. The number of people who turned out for each of their funerals was a testament to the number of people whose lives they touched with their kindness and generosity. But Ted’s legacy continues, and each day he is missed by so many. Even today, it’s difficult to drive through Aumsville and not look for the elderly man on his bicycle with dog treats in his pocket, heading for the local fire station for a cup of coffee and a few good stories.