The Silent Hero: The Life of Ted Cupp

 

Sinking of the USS Arizona. 7 Dec 1941

“Yesterday, December 7, 1941—a date which will live in infamy—the United States of America was suddenly and deliberately attacked by naval and air forces of the Empire of Japan…

 

I regret to tell you that very many American lives have been lost. In addition, American ships have been reported torpedoed on the high seas between San Francisco and Honolulu…

 

As Commander in Chief of the Army and Navy I have directed that all measures be taken for our defense. But always will our whole Nation remember the character of the onslaught against us.

No matter how long it may take us to overcome this premeditated invasion, the American people in their righteous might will win through to absolute victory. I believe that I interpret the will of the Congress and of the people when I assert that we will not only defend ourselves to the utmost but will make it very certain that this form of treachery shall never again endanger us…

 

With confidence in our armed forces—with the unbounding determination of our people—we will gain the inevitable triumph- so help us God. I ask that the Congress declare that since the unprovoked and dastardly attack by Japan on Sunday, December 7, 1941, a state of war has existed between the United States and the Japanese Empire.”

 

--Franklin D. Roosevelt, Joint Session of the United States Congress, December 8, 1941

Perhaps no other moment in the history of the United States has caused more stir of emotion than President Franklin D. Roosevelt words on the morning of December 8, 1941.  For nearly three years the U.S. stayed neutral during the conflict in Europe, called World War II.  But at 7:55 am everything changed.  Within an hour and a half, the Japanese had laid waste to the American Pacific Fleet anchored in Pearl Harbor, Hawaii.  The attack shocked the American nation.  Men and women flocked to recruitment offices to come to their country’s aid.  Among them, a 16-year-old boy named Ted waited eagerly until he was old enough to sign up too.

A MAN NAMED TED

Almost everyone in the little town of Aumsville, Oregon, knew Ted.  The elderly yet robust fireman- turned-farmer lived on the outskirts of town and spent most days either walking or riding his bicycle through town to the local firehouse.  There, he had coffee with the crew and swapped stories about fires from his 30-year career as captain of the Salem Fire Department.  Wearing his red, plaid jacket with his white hair tucked under his John Deere cap, he had a joke for everyone and a treat he called “Chomps” in his pocket for his four-legged fans.  He served as an advisor to the local firemen and on the board of trustees at his church, always ready to lend a hand where needed.  But one of his most rewarding undertakings was talking to the history class at the elementary school across the street from his home.  There, he injected reality into their study of World War II and the conflict in the South Pacific.

THE DATE THAT LIVES IN INFAMY

Theodore Cupp, May 1943
Ted Cupp and his friends eagerly awaited the day they could enlist.  That day arrived in May of 1943 when Ted and four of his Salem High School classmates joined the Navy.  He did not graduate from high school; that day would not come until 68 years later when he received an honorary diploma to a standing ovation from what is now North Salem High School. But for now, school would have to wait—there was a war to fight.  He 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 from battles in the South Pacific.  By November, they returned to the South Pacific, where the Enterprise would operate for the next year.  Ted, now a Seaman 2nd Class, worked as a boilerman in the engine rooms, producing power for the great ship. 

THE “BIG E”

In 1944, the Enterprise operated in the South Pacific, covering the Marshall and Marianas Islands, the Philippines, and Formosa.  The ship earned the nickname “The Galloping Ghost” for her ability to seemingly appear out of nowhere, strike the enemy, and then vanish again, thanks to her speed, agility, and the skill of her pilots and crew. While in the South Pacific, Ted was promoted to Fireman 1st Class in March 1945.

Aircraft Carriers USS Lexington CV-16 and USS Enterprise CV-6, 1944, U.S. Navy

In 1945, the Enterprise struck airfields in Luzon, Philippines, then launched raids into Indochina and targeted shipping installations along the Indochina and South China Sea coasts. The Enterprise then took position off Iwo Jima, attacking nearby enemy airfields and providing close air support on February 19 for the landing Marines. That day, 5931 Marines, 881 sailors, and over 20,000 Japanese defenders lost their lives. Ted recalled standing on the deck, shooting at the Zeros as they swarmed the ship.  His shipmate standing next to him suddenly dropped dead, shot in the head.

USS Enterprise hit by Japanese Kamikaze off Okinawa. 1945. U.S. Navy

On May 14, Ted and his crew witnessed one of the most horrifying events of their enlistment.  Shortly before 0700, a Kamikaze bomber dove onto the Enterprise, flipped over, and plunged through the 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.  On May 16, she withdrew from combat and would not return to the war. Returning to Pearl Harbor, she received a hero's welcome before heading to Bremerton two days later for repairs and an overhaul.  She was moored to Pier 6 in Puget Sound Navy Yard when Japan surrendered on August 14, 1945. 

FROM NAVY BLUE TO FIREFIGHTER RED

By the age of 19, Ted had matured beyond his years because of the war. Like the Enterprise, he did not return to the sea.  He remained stationed at Puget Sound until his enlistment ended in November 1946. During his time in the Navy, Ted sent his pay home to support his mother and his sisters.  After returning home he moved in and started making long-needed repairs.  He reconnected with his high school buddies, with whom he had enlisted four years earlier.  Hearing that the City of Salem was hiring firefighters, they applied and were hired.  

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

They had three sons: Mike, Gary, and Keith. Ted’s stern parenting often caused contention between him and his sons, but they picked up the hard-earned qualities he had developed during the war.  After all, Ted’s father had died when he was young, and the Navy had filled that void. He raised his sons with the same structure and resolve he had known.

With his grandchildren, however, Ted was less stern and more fun-loving.  He left them with cherished memories of camping, fishing, and his creative repairs of farm tools with baling wire and duct tape--memories that would bring them smiles the rest of their lives.  Ted and Maxine adored their grandchildren and celebrated all the major landmarks in their journey to adulthood.

CAPTAIN TED CUPP, SALEM FIRE STATION NO. 1
 
In 1964, Ted earned a promotion to Captain of Salem Fire Station No. 1.  By then he had dedicated nearly half his life to firefighting, making the skills he learned during the war and on the job  invaluable to the community.   His unflinching calm under pressure was demonstrated during a fire at the Boise Cascade paper plant in 1981.  Firefighters arrived to find flames curling from beneath a nearly full 1,000-gallon propane tank, with a ball of flame shooting out from the end of a twisted hose.  While Salem Police diverted traffic from nearby Commercial Street, firefighters sprayed the tank with water from about 50 feet away to cool it.  After 10-15 tense minutes, Ted reached under the tank and turned off the gas, preventing a potentially massive explosion that would have affected a square city block.  He did not consider himself a hero: He simply did his job.   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 had been hired by the Salem Fire Department, began meeting annually to catch up and reminisce about their shared past.  Year by year, their numbers dwindled until 2018, when only two remained:  Ted and his friend Ray Tompkins, a Gunner’s Mate in the Navy during the war who had also worked with Ted at the fire department.  Ray, the last man standing of the original group, passed away in 2020.

Ted retired from the Salem Fire Department after 33 years of service.  After his Uncle Hoyt and Aunt Stella Cupp passed away, he bought their 1910 farm along Mill Creek on the west side of Aumsville. Ted and Maxine worked tirelessly to make it both a home and a working farm, growing corn, strawberries, fruit trees, vegetables, and raising Ted’s beloved cows. In 2014, the town honored Ted as Grand Marshall of the annual Corn Festival, leading the parade through the streets of Aumsville.

 

 

Life on the Farm with Ted. Pictured with wife, Maxine, and sons Keith, Gary & Mike

Grand Marshall, Ted Cupp, with wife Maxine, Aumsville Corn Festival. Aug 2014.
 

THE MEMORIES LEFT BEHIND

Ted & granddaughter, April
Ask any of Ted’s family, and they will tell you he had a routine—a lifestyle no doubt shaped by his years in professions requiring a structured schedule.  At about 6 am, he would arise, make a fire, put on the coffee, and head out to feed his cows.  Once back in the house, he would have breakfast and coffee while reading the morning paper with Maxine.  Then, he would 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. Back home, he would cut firewood, work in the garden, or tackle any number of tasks 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 would 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 it routine rarely changed over the decades.  Truly, you could set your watch by his routine!

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

Keith, Maxine, Gary, and Mike Cupp. Ted Cupp's Funeral. August 2018.
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 would 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 he passed away from his injuries a few hours later.  He was 92 years old.  The reason for the accident remains unknown, 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 attended their funerals was a testament to the 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 is hard to drive through Aumsville without looking for the elderly man in his red plaid jacket and John Deere cap, riding his bicycle with dog treats in his pocket, heading for the local fire station for a cup of coffee and a few good stories.

 From the Family Album:

Ted and grandson, Brian, at the USS Enterprise, 2015

19 Mar 2014 Maxine and Ted were the longest married couple Life Dance winners 63 years and counting

21 Oct 2014

Gary, Keith, Ted & Mike Cupp

Senior High School Photo. Salem High School

Ted & brother Hoyt Cupp. c. 1943

Four Generations of Cupps. Grandson Aaron, Ted, Great Grandson Kalel, and son Mike. Unknown Date

Ted & Maxine Cupp. 2014

Grampa Ted teaching grandson Evan the important things in life! 1984

Ted & grandson Ryan Cupp. Unknown Date.

Grampa Ted giving grandchildren a ride on the tractor.


Ted Cupp at his Graduation from North Salem High School, Salem, Oregon. 15 Jun 2011

Statesman Journal. Salem, Oregon. 15 Jun 2011


 


Whispers in the Wind: The Story of Caty Sage

Caty Sage at 17 years. (Artist Rendering)

Lovisa Sage struggled down to the edge of Elk Creek, carrying her heavy iron washing pot on a hot July day in 1792. As with many women of her era, Lovis’ daily tasks were demanding—laundry, meal planning and cooking, sewing, gardening, and watching her and James’ children. She was grateful she only needed to wash clothes once a week!  Setting the pot down, she started a fire beneath it to heat the water, then walked back up the hill to their little log cabin to collect the clothes to be washed. Since Samuel and James Jr. helped their father in the fields, she left 6-year-old Polly and 5-year-old Caty to watch 3-year-old Lovis, 2-year-old Peggy, and 5-month-old Sampson. Returning to the cabin, she found Polly dutifully minding the toddlers while Caty, true to her nature, was in the meadow overlooking the cabin, picking flowers and chasing butterflies. Lovis sighed. That child!  If only she were more like her sister Polly!

Lovis gathered the laundry and trudged back down to the creek to scrub it clean. After some time, the sun sank lower, signaling it was nearing time to start preparing the evening meal, but as she neared the cabin, Caty was nowhere in sight. Inside the cabin, Polly had not seen her since earlier that day. Lovis anxiously searched the area around the cabin, fear gripping her heart as she called Caty’s name but found no trace of her. Lovis sent Polly to fetch James and the boys for help. They searched until the darkness of night fell but to no avail.

Site of the Sage Home. The Site of Caty's Kidnapping.

The next morning, they enlisted their neighbors’ help. About 50 or 60 of them searched the surrounding forests, rivers, caves, and mountainside. Days turned into weeks and weeks into months. In despair, the fruitless search ended. Lovis tried to accept that Caty was gone, but James could not accept that fate. He heard tales of Granny Moses, an old black woman who lived over the mountains in North Carolina and was reputed to be able to speak to the spirits and foretell events. Desperate and determined, James made the arduous journey to see if she could tell him if he would ever see his daughter again. Granny Moses listened to his story and told him that Caty was alive, but he would never see or hear from her again in his lifetime. However, she predicted that his wife, who would outlive him, would hear from Caty in her old age. With nothing more to do,  James returned home. He and Lovis continued their life along Elk Creek, welcoming four more children to their family but bearing the heartache of not knowing what had become of Caty.

But what happened to Caty that summer day in 1792?  To answer that question, we must return to the previous spring. One of the Sage’s neighbors, Mr. Cornett, lost three of his finest horses to theft. Locals believed three white strangers who had been seen in the area were the thieves. Seeking help from their neighbors, James and Cornett searched for the horses and found them hobbled and grazing between White Top Mountain and Balsam Mountain, but they never found the thieves. Later,  Caty’s accounts revealed that one of the thieves wanted revenge and sold the blond-haired, blue-eyed little girl to Cherokee Indians at the Trading Gap in Tennessee, a two-day ride southwest Elk Creek. Caty recalled she was snatched by a white man, a handkerchief stifling her screams, and taken away on horseback; her muffled cries lost in the wind. Once at the Trading Gap, she was sold to the Cherokee, who took her north through Virginia, eventually bringing her to a Wyandot village near the Scioto River in Ohio. 

Chief Tarhe, "The Crane"
The journey from Elk Creek to the Trading Gap took an exhausting 16 days by horseback and canoe. The Cherokee gathered to trade horses with the Wyandot and Shawnee and to celebrate the Green Corn Harvest Festival, their thanksgiving celebration. The Wyandot chief, Tarhe (“the Crane”), showed great interest in the silent, fair-haired girl who undoubtedly took in the unfamiliar surroundings with wide eyes and fear and uncertainty evident on her face. After much negotiation, he obtained her from the Cherokee.

Tarhe, the Grand Sachem (head chief) of the Wyandot Indians, belonged to the Porcupine clan of the Wyandot Nation and had participated in all his tribe’s battles since boyhood. His wife, Ronyouquaines, was believed to be the daughter of Chevalier La Durante, a French Canadian. She was said to have been captured as a child, grew up with the Wyandots, and eventually married the great Tarhe. Their daughter, Myerrah, married a white man who also had been captured as a child and raised by the Wyandots. Under Tarhe’s order, Caty was adopted into the Turtle clan with his full blessing, becoming his new daughter. The tribe gave her the name “Yourowquainsa name, partially translating to “Sally” in English. 

As the American Army and the Indian Nations prepared for a significant conflict, tension filled the air. The Wyandots and other tribes had prepared themselves for battle for some time. In 1794, at the Battle of the Fallen Timbers, 1,300 braves from the Indian Nations, supported by 80-150 British Canadian militia, faced off against 3,000 American Army soldiers on the Maumee River. The bloody battle lasted only about an hour, but it left the Indian nations defeated and subdued. Of the 13 chiefs that had left for the battle, only one returned—the great Tarhe, who was wounded in the arm. By the spring of 1797, Tarhe had relocated the Wyandots camp from near the Hocking River north to the Upper Sandusky River of Ohio.

In the winter of 1803, Chief Tarhe’s wife passed away. At 62 years old, Tarhe took Caty, now 17, as his wife. They had a son who died in infancy—a sorrowful but common occurrence among Indian newborns at the time. In November 1816, at the age of 74, the Great Crane, Chief Tarhe, passed away, leaving Caty and the entire Wyandot nation in mourning and adrift without their beloved leader. Duon-quote (Half-King) of the Porcupine clan eventually succeeded him.

Between-The-Logs

It was about this time that the Christianization of the Indians began. John Stewart, a Methodist missionary, committed himself to working among Native Americans, following his calling to the Wyandot country around the Upper Sandusky River. He introduced them to the Christian message, which brought reconciliation and peace among fractured tribal relationships. Caty was allotted her own land, where she had a house built. Soon after, she married Between-The-Logs, who moved into her house along with his daughter, brother, and two sisters, one of whom was blind. Caty’s love and caring for others became well-known throughout the tribe, and many sought her advice. Shortly after their marriage, Between-The-Logs was made chief of the Wyandot nation. He converted to Christianity at one of Stewart’s early meetings and took an interest in the mission’s growth. Together, Caty and Between-The-Logs improved their way of life by adopting new ways of doing things, which they learned from the missionaries. Between-The-Logs died of consumption at his home in 1827, and his funeral at the mission church he cared for so much was attended by a large number of people.

"Frost"

Two years after Between-The-Logs died, Caty married again, this time to a Wyandot warrior named Frost. Embracing the Christian tradition, Caty changed her name to Sally Frost, taking the name of her husband as her surname. Together, they raised Between-The-Log’s daughter and Frost’s sister’s children, who were orphaned. With their growing household, they decided to build a larger cabin about 300 yards from her old one on a ridge near a very good spring. Frost and several other families worked together, cutting trees and fashioning them into logs for the cabin. But tragedy struck again in 1842 when Frost passed away. Their nephew, Michael, stepped up as the man of the family, taking on chores such as tending crops, chopping firewood, and carrying water from the spring. 

 As America expanded into the Midwest, the government sought to buy the Wyandot Indian lands for settlement. Feeling they had no choice, the Wyandots ceded their land to the United States and were relocated to Kansas. Fifty-one years after Caty’s abduction from her home in Elk Creek, she found herself relocated once again to a strange land. 

In the spring of 1848, a Wyandot interpreter approached Caty to tell her about a white man he met at Fort Leavenworth who bore a striking resemblance to her. The man mentioned he had an older sister who disappeared before he was born and that her fate was a mystery. The interpreter, who had known Caty since Tarhe brought her into the tribe, revealed the man’s name was Charles Comer Sage, a trader from Virginia. Eager to find out if she was his long-lost sister, Charles wanted to meet her. Caty agreed to meet him at the Wyandot council house with the interpreter, as she only spoke the Wyandot language and not English.

Charles Comer Sage, Caty's Brother

Caty was filled with angst as she prepared to meet this stranger who claimed to be her brother. She had long since forgotten any details about her home in Virginia. As she listened, the interpreter explained to Charles that the Cherokee had given her to the Wyandots as a gift during one of their annual festivals. She learned that her father, brothers, and neighbors had searched for her for weeks when she went missing. She discovered that her father, James Sage, had died but her mother, Lovisa Sage, was still living at the family homestead on Elk Creek. While Caty was convinced that Charles was indeed her brother, Charles himself was still unsure and decided to write to his family to inquire if there were any identifying marks that would confirm her identity. His older brother, Samuel, who had been eleven years old when Caty disappeared, lived about 200 miles from Ft. Leavenworth and agreed to meet her as well.

In his letter home, Charles wrote:  

 “She looks to be about 58 or 60 years in age. She is about the height of Sister Esther. She stands straight under my arm. Her hair is yellow like Esther’s. She has a large nose like Sister Betsey. She has a foot and toenails like Mother and walks with a kind of swing like Mother used to do when going from you. She cannot talk one word of our language nor understand it. I had to talk to her through an interpreter. I asked her whether there were any particular marks on her that she could be distinguished by and she showed me her left hand. I examined her fingers. They are shorter than common and more thick and clumbsy (sic) at the end. Her left thumb resembles a thumb [--if you can imagine, or] supposed [that] it was cut off at the root of the nail, and then a broad, flat nail [were] to grow on the stump.”

In June, Samuel met Charles and arranged to meet Caty at the Council house. He received the information he needed to confirm Caty’s identity from his youngest sister, Betsey. In his letter to Virginia dated 20 June 1848, Charles described the meeting:

“Samuel looked at her [Caty] and recognized her immediately. He had been told before he saw her she had a burn on her thigh. We asked her if it was there. She said it was and when she was a small girl, she asked the woman that raised her how that mark came there and she told her it was always there. We then examined and found the mark between her shoulders, as Mother described it, and Caty said she never knew it was there before. Also, the mark that brother James described on the right side just above the collar bone [was there] and so it seems that every mark proves it to be her. We have no doubt nor has she any doubt but she is our real sister and the Indians are satisfied she is our sister. She has been claimed by two families before but they never could convince her nor describe her by any mark.”

Caty initially agreed to accompany her brothers home to see their mother and the rest of her family. However, after two days she changed her mind. In his letter home, Charles explained her reason was the long distance “and that it would be no satisfaction because she cannot talk to you nor you to her and I am sure it would be the case.”

“As to her situation, it is as good as any of ours. She appears to have plenty. Sister Caty is a very pious woman. She was adopted into the Turtle [clan] and claims the whole tribe as her children by adoption and they claim her as a grandmother.”

Charles Comer Sage

Charles continued to visit Caty whenever his job for the trading company brought him to the area. Caty often wondered whether she had made the right decision in not returning to Virginia to see her family, but the thought of traveling such a long distance frightened her. At 63 and nearly blind, she had heard rumors that the government might force the Wyandots to relocate to Oklahoma. No, she decided, she had made the right decision to stay and care for her people. Then, in the spring of 1849, cholera struck the Wyandot tribe. When Charles again came to see her again, Caty, through an interpreter, asked him to write a letter to her mother.

“Though I am blind I can hear. Write to my mother and tell her though I have lost my vision, and all is dark without, all is light within. Tell her it has been some 30 years since I first heard the Gospel preached and the name of Jesus. I then embraced the calls of mercy and though I felt at the time an outcast and did not know that I had a relative on earth, I found Jesus precious to my soul. And from that [day] to the present time I have thought that when this mortal body put on immortality, I should meet my relations according to the flesh in that world where all circumstances of my mysterious life should be known. Though you may think that my lot has been a hard one, and certainly it has, I have no reason to complain. I have always been treated tenderly in the way I have been raised, and now that a mysterious providence has made known to me that I have a mother and brothers and sisters yet on earth, and the idea is forever precluded that I can see them in this world, my soul is buoyant in the hope that you all will meet me in heaven where we can tell all our sufferings and enjoyments over, where parents and children, brothers and sister, will meet to part no more.”

On Sunday, 23 Jan 1853, Catharine “Yourowquains” Sage passed away from pneumonia 16 days after her 66th birthday. Known among the Wyandots as “Aunt Sally Frost,” “Mother,” and “Grandmother,” she was the wife of chiefs, the grandmother to the Wyandot Nation, and the missing child of Elk Creek. She was laid to rest near the Church of the Old Methodist in the Wyandot Nation. Today, the cemetery where Caty rests is called the Quindaro Cemetery in Kansas City. In Grayson County, Virginia, along Highway 21, a historical marker commemorates the place where a 5-year-old girl with blonde hair and laughing blue eyes was abducted from her family and became a family legend.