The Northwest Genealogist: 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.