CHAPTER TWO - Milton Spangler

C HAPTER T WO

Milton Spangler

The Early Years

T he majestic Cascade Mountains served as the backdrop of Milton’s life, with Mount Hood and Mount Jefferson posing like two bookends in the distance. Milton had a great appreciation for the outdoors and the pristine waters of the lakes and rivers. When he was old enough, and his father wasn’t working a sixty-hour week, they would spend hours fishing. The day his father taught him how to bait a hook, Milton got hooked on nature. He spent as much time as he could walking through the woods, admiring the trees. The trees brought much profit to the area. Milton once asked his father what would happen if they killed all the trees. His father explained that Oregon was the first state to enact a reforestation program, in which landowners had to leave at least two seed trees per acre, but as time went on, the building of new American homes required more trees to be planted. Mill became more curious about the process and about everything having to do with the lumbermill.

As often as possible, Milton would ride to Geiser Creek with his father to pick up his paycheck. Mill loved the smell of sawdust. He knew almost everyone’s name at the mill and would wander around the lumberyard while his dad was in the office. Mill often wondered if this was a place he’d like to work, but he saw the physical toll it took on his dad. No. He’d rather smell the wood than handle it. Besides, he was a bit of a whiz when it came to math, an ability he’d inherited from his mother. Maybe he could eventually figure out how to do both. And it was his father’s terrible accident that gave him the opportunity.

Before his father passed, Mill had had a good relationship with both of his parents. It wasn’t Father Knows Best or Leave It to Beaver , but it was close. Good manners. Being polite. And most of all, being honest. His father taught him it was a lot easier to remember the truth than a lie. Lies required a lot of energy to keep track of. Harold Spangler was considered a fine man; gone too soon.

Growing up, Mill had a typical relationship with his younger sister, Helen. They’d fight over who spent too much time in the bathroom, or whose turn it was to fold the laundry or dry the dishes. But they were loyal to each other. No matter how much they argued, no one was going to pick on either of them, not without the other getting into it. Those occasions were rare. With their father gone, Helen looked to Mill for advice and guidance, which he was happy to provide. He also looked after his mother. She never got over the shock of losing her husband. She was able to function, but there was an emptiness in her eyes now.

Milton had big shoes to fill. Despite his schoolwork, and his part-time job at Geiser Creek, he managed to help with the chores, cooking, and shopping. He wasn’t going to let his family down. Even though Harold was no longer around, Mill wanted his father to be proud of him.

During his part-time stretch at Geiser Creek, Mill discovered more efficient ways to file and organize the company’s accounts receivables. Of course, he always ran his ideas past the office manager, who was willing to give Mill a shot at it, especially if it meant the office manager could get away with doing less.

By the time he turned eighteen, he’d become the office manager’s favorite employee, because the young man actually made his life so much easier. When Mill was about to graduate from high school, the manager offered Mill a full-time job. Mill, who wasn’t about to veer off his path of further educating himself, carried out his first negotiation: he would continue to work, but his hours would be flexible so that he could take classes at the local community college, where he planned to study business administration.

Helen was about to graduate from high school, and the savings he and his mother had squirreled away would help pay for her college tuition. A scholarship would cover the rest. Mill insisted she do the full four years and become a teacher. No ifs, ands, or buts, so she enrolled at Western Oregon University, a half hour’s drive from home, thereby saving money on room and board. She majored in early childhood education and met a fellow student named Gary Bahr, whom she fell in love with.

Mill and his mother approved of Gary, which was saying a lot. Mill was very protective of his sister. He felt she’d never gotten over the trauma of losing her father. She was as vulnerable as her mother. But Gary was kind and thoughtful, working on a degree in special education. Mill knew it took a special person to work with special students. By the time Helen finished her internship, they were engaged. Milton was happy his sister had found someone who loved her dearly, and he proudly walked her down the aisle.

Most of the people Helen knew either worked at the mill or knew someone who worked at the mill. It was a constant reminder of what had been taken from her. It was time to move on, and she and Gary found jobs in the small town of Bandon on the Oregon coast. Josephine was troubled that her daughter was moving four hours away, but the trauma of Helen’s father’s death would never leave Helen until she could leave the anguish of her past behind. Within a year of their marriage, Helen and Gary had their first child. A girl. They named her Christina.

Promises were made that Mill and Josephine would visit often, but Mill became consumed with Geiser Creek Sawmill. He was determined that the mill would repay him for the loss of his father. Legitimately, of course. His goal was to eventually own the place and make it a safer environment for all who worked there. Turning a profit would be the icing on the cake.

* * *

Long before computers were the caretakers of cashflow, Mill created a calendar to keep track of payments due to the company. Anyone who was a day late got a notice. Not a nasty one, but a “friendly reminder.” By the time he completed the two-year college course, he became the youngest assistant office manager in the history of the mill.

With the receivables coming in on time, the mill was turning a good profit, allowing it to expand and grow. Over the next few years, Mill proved to be a valuable asset to the company, and at the young age of twenty-five, he was asked if he wanted to become a partner in the business. The only issue was the 20,000 dollars required to buy his shares.

Having worked on the books for so long, Mill knew the company had the potential to be valued at a few million dollars. He believed if he had some influence over the company’s practices, he could make that potential a reality. His family home was free and clear, so he took out a loan using the house as collateral. His mother was hesitant, but she also had faith in her son. He had certainly stepped up when his father died. Her biggest concern was that he was still single at twenty-five, and still living with his mother. But times were different back then. He wasn’t a basement dweller playing video games. Most hadn’t been invented yet. No, he lived at home to help support his mother, just as he had for the past ten years. But with Helen, Gary, and Christina so far away, Josephine decided it was time for her to retire from the dress shop and bring her nimble fingers across the state.

Mill lived modestly, in the same house where he’d grown up. He now had enough earnings and savings to look into real estate in Bandon and bought a fifty-acre parcel of land for 5,000 dollars. At the time, undeveloped acreage was cheap, and Mill saw it as an asset. Something for the future.

Mill insisted on helping his sister and brother-in-law finance a house on the property that could accommodate the young family and Josephine. In the beginning, it was a modest ranch with a separate room for Josephine, where she could set up her sewing machine. When Josephine moved, she made Mill promise he would meet a nice girl and settle down. He made good on half the promise.

* * *

During a political fund-raising event, he met the “nice girl” he’d promised his mother. Her name was Patricia Wakeman, daughter of a U.S. senator. Milton wasn’t the most handsome man in town, but he wasn’t the ugliest, either. He was average-looking but had a nice smile and was very personable. It didn’t take long for Patricia to see the potential in Milton, and Milton didn’t mind the idea of having a senator as his father-in-law. It was always good to have someone in the Senate who could expedite things that would ordinarily take years. It wasn’t that Milton was an unscrupulous man, but he knew when an opportunity presented itself, it was worth pursuing.

Patricia had recently graduated from Towson University in Maryland. She was involved in a sorority and was invited to many on-campus and off-campus activities. She was, beyond a doubt, the daughter of a U.S. senator. Patricia was being groomed to be a socialite. She never planned on working, but having a college degree was important to her father and his reputation.

Patricia was pleasing-looking, but not stunning. She made up for her slightly above-average looks with her charm, good hair and makeup, and a high-end wardrobe. Well-dressed and well-spoken, Patricia could easily carry on an interesting conversation. She didn’t seem spoiled at the time, and Milton found her likeable. He’d never had a girlfriend for whom he felt a deep sense of romantic love. His mind and heart were consumed with expansion. His passion was accomplishment. For Milton, having a partner was more important than having a lover, except for the brief affair he had just before he met Patricia. That was as close as he ever came to a relationship that tugged at his emotions. But it was ephemeral, and the geographic locations made it impossible. At least they had remained friends.

* * *

During the boom of the 1970s, profits soared, and Milton parlayed the company’s assets into several divisions, buying back stock from other shareholders who were looking to retire. By his thirty-fifth birthday, Mill owned half of the lumber company. Before the next three years had passed, he would own all of it. The first thing he did was change the name from Geiser Creek Sawmill to Geiser Creek Lumber and Millwork. He felt the word sawmill limited the perception of the company. And he was right. When contractors sought lumber, they went to Geiser Creek, an all-service company.

Milton spent endless hours reviewing the books, expenses, and ways to be more efficient. That practice was what had gotten him to where he was. He realized renting trucks was a waste of money, so he invested in trucks and leased them to other companies during slow months. He called the new company Interstate Trucking. Not very original, but that’s exactly what it was. As the business grew, he needed more space, so he invested in real estate, building two more lumber and millwork facilities between Salem and Lebanon.

Geiser Creek had become the second-largest supplier of lumber in the entire state. Two years later, it would become one of the largest in the country under the umbrella of Spangler Enterprises Inc. The conglomerate included real estate holdings, as well as a regional hotel chain designed to accommodate truckers, called the Cascade Inns. There were five of them in the Pacific Northwest, attracting many long-haulers, giving them a reasonably priced, more comfortable place to sleep, shower, and eat, than a truck stop or the back of their cab. The inns were refurbished buildings and motels that were scheduled for demolition, and Milton got a tax incentive for renovating the properties. Geiser now had three mills, and a fleet of vehicles including pickup trucks, box trucks, flatbeds, and eighteen-wheelers.

Every Friday, Mill would visit one of the facilities, rotating them every week. He’d have sandwiches delivered and sit with the men and discuss their jobs. He wasn’t trying to intimidate or spy on them. He was genuinely interested in how things were going. What could be improved? What was working and what wasn’t? His several hundred employees appreciated the face-to-face opportunities to talk with the “big boss.” Patricia often questioned why he was spending time with the underlings. “Isn’t that what you have foremen and supervisors for?”

“It’s not the same. I don’t ever want to be out of touch. Besides, talking with the men reminds me of when I was a kid and ran around in the sawdust.”

Patricia would smirk. “Whatever you say, dear. You are the boss, after all.”

As the years went by, he would have to remind himself why he’d married her. He used to like her. But now? He wondered. Had she turned into one of those entitled posers she’d loathed at one time? They say people don’t change. They just become the worst or best of themselves, but the core is still there. Too bad he hadn’t seen her core earlier, although he would never change anything about their son Benjamin.

Milton was on the fence when it came to his father-in-law. That connection was a double-edged sword. But he learned to live with it and made use of his father-in-law’s desire to please his daughter. Milton began to discover Patricia’s true nature when she insisted they hire a nanny for Benjamin. Milton didn’t think it was necessary since Patricia didn’t have a job, but raising a son might infringe on her leisure time, which was most of the time. The senator made the decision for them and paid for a full-time nanny. He wanted his daughter to be available for social happenings, whether they occurred in Oregon or Washington, D.C. Milton didn’t particularly like getting “handouts,” but he told himself it was for Patricia. And Benjamin.

After Benajamin came along, Mill tried to balance home life with work. When he had free time, he made plans to spend it with his son. He wanted to teach Benjamin how to fish the way his father had taught him. Teach him how to ride a bike. Fly a kite. He wanted to have the same kind of relationship he’d had with his father; a relationship that was cut short. He was there when Benjamin took his first step and drove him to his first day of school. Milton worked late hours but always had breakfast with his son. Patricia rarely rose before ten o’clock, but the nanny, Alissa, made sure Benjamin was dressed and ready for school. That was when Milton developed an appreciation for the extra help around the house.

When Benjamin turned eight, Milton began to plan trips with him. One of their weekend adventures included a visit to Bend, Oregon. Surrounded by the Cascades, the town had a “high desert” climate, with three hundred days of clear sunny skies and cool nights. They visited Pilot Butte, one of the only urban volcanoes in the U.S., with panoramic views of the desert, mountains, and the city of Bend below. Milton also planned trips to Bandon to visit his sister’s family and his mother. He took Benjamin to Haystack Rock, one of Oregon’s most popular landmarks. Its basalt sea stack arose two-hundred-thirty-five feet from the shoreline. During low tide, it was possible to walk to the base of it. Milton remembered the day he’d brought Benjamin there for the first time. Seeing the delight on his son’s face was one of the most memorable moments in his life.

There was little time for much else, although he never neglected his wife or other family obligations. Patricia enjoyed the finer things, parties, galas, and travel. Lots of it. Mill did not oppose any of it, as long as he wasn’t expected to be roped into all of it. Some of it, yes. All of it, no.

Patricia

For Patricia, Milton wasn’t like any other man she had met before. For one thing, he wasn’t a politician. For another, he wasn’t looking for favors. Maybe that was the same thing. Milton was a man with a mission that wasn’t “inside the Beltway.” She liked the idea that he was an ambitious young man; a man who had to earn his way, without the benefit of rich and influential parents, even though hers were exactly that. When it came to the dating pool, she had had enough of the pretentious posers in search of benefits for themselves or family members. For Patricia, Milton Spangler would be a good provider, especially if she had anything to do with it. She set her sights on him, and the two formed an alliance. It appeared they came to the same conclusion at the same time. Each of them would get what they wanted from their union. It wasn’t emotionless, but they each had something to gain from it.

As a wedding gift, Senator Wakeman bought the couple a piece of property in Mountain Valley, a suburb of Salem, with the unspoken understanding that it would be a wonderful place to raise a family. Two years later, they had their first child and named him Benjamin, after her grandfather, who had left her a tidy sum. Soon after, they broke ground to build their first house. It wasn’t quite a mansion yet, but was designed for future expansion. The senator saw to it.

Patricia returned frequently to Washington, D.C., to visit family and friends and enjoy social activity with high-puffery politicos. She couldn’t help herself. It was in her blood. The more often she visited, the more she was disenchanted with Salem. She needed a project and decided the family should have a vacation home on the Oregon coast. Bandon was the perfect choice. It took very little coaxing for Milton to agree, since his sister, her family, and his mother were there, and there was plenty of property to build a showcase home, as big and as lavish as the Salem residence. She decided it would have five bedrooms with en suite baths to accommodate weekend guests, family or otherwise. Milton gave her full control of the project, which eventually ran over a few million dollars. She had a professional photographer submit photos to Architectural Digest , which ran a story about the senator’s daughter and her brilliant project, even though she had a team of designers work on it.

She planned a lavish housewarming party and rented another house for the guest list overflow. Her father thought it would be a good opportunity for a mingling of political rivals. Not that the gathering would encourage getting more done in Washington, but it would make a good story about politicians playing nice in the sandbox.

The Secretary of State, several congressmen, a handful of senators, and a federal judge were on the list. It made national news: “The grand hostess at her spectacular vacation home with the sensational view.” Nothing was mentioned as to who paid for the transportation, but some of Senator Wakeman’s rivals muttered it was the taxpayers. And they were back to the usual news cycle of name-calling, in-fighting, blaming, finger-pointing, and a whole lot of nothing getting done.

A year later, Oliver was born, an unplanned surprise to the family. Patricia was thirty-four. Patricia took it as a “sign” and Oliver was a “gift.” It was clear she connected with him more than she had with Benjamin. She coddled Oliver—something she’d never done with Benjamin. Milton thought she might be maturing.

With the difference in their son’s ages, it was natural that Benjamin spent time with his father while he waited for his younger brother to be old enough for them to enjoy activities together. But when Benjamin turned eighteen, his younger brother was only nine. It was going to be two decades before they were on the same page. If it ever happened.

Over the years, Milton and Patricia formed a mutual understanding, and a satisfactory relationship. They rarely argued. Milton simply let Patrica do whatever she wanted.

* * *

When Milton turned sixty-five, he began to delegate some of the operations to Benjamin, who took to the work like a duck to water. He had his father’s DNA and was equally sharp and insightful. Oliver was second in command and dabbled in the Cascade Inns and transportation end of the business.

With Benjamin at Milton’s side, the company continued to show profits, but there were times when Benjamin questioned some of his brother’s expenses. Oliver would give him a few lines of double-talk regarding negotiations, and Benjamin would look elsewhere in the company to cover the deductions.

But things began to get murky after the first fourteen-year-old went missing. Oliver denounced the reward, claiming it would focus too much attention on the family business. “We don’t need people picking through our rubbish for a story.” Milton wasn’t as concerned. He had nothing to hide. If anything, he wanted the family name to be cleared. It troubled him that the witness recalled a pickup truck with the company logo.

Milton decided to call a family meeting. He had a number of items to discuss. Oliver was the first to arrive in his father’s study, followed by Benjamin. Patricia came in to say hello, then turned and said, “I’ll leave you three to talk business.”

Milton picked up his half-filled glass of brandy. Oliver was having his favorite tequila. Within a half hour, Milton started to breathe heavily and complain about a pain in his chest. Moments later, he was going into convulsions. Benjamin called 911 and then loosened the collar of his father’s shirt. He was about to administer CPR when EMS arrived. After all, this was the Spangler family. All hands were on deck.

As Milton lay connected to tubes and wires in a hospital bed, he had time to reflect on the seventy-five years of his life. He thought back to the trips he and Benjamin had taken and drifted off to sleep, wondering if he would make it through the night.