In the early 1950s, John Taylor spent a lot of time at the Everett YMCA, where I served as the Boys’ Program director. He was a small, slender boy with a quiet self-assurance even then. Everyone liked John but he did cause a little concern once in awhile. When we were day-camping at Howarth Park, for example, John liked to take off by himself and then we had to organize search parties to find him. One time we found him seated at the end of some old pilings which jutted out of the sound. Another time, we found him inside of an old cedar stump about 8 feet high and rotted out inside. He managed to open a small hole at the base of the stump and stick his arm out. He was rescued by our staff, which included Ernie Dire, Tom Tiede, Don Dawson, Ed Cameron and Herb Barstad.
When we were at Camp Hoopenholler across the City Beach on Silver Lake, it was John who climbed the tree on which we hung a terrifying rope ladder donated by Police Chief Frank Patterson. He also suffered the misfortune of falling on a tree branch he was running around with and nearly punctured his eye.
In the late 1960s, I asked John if he could help in the search for two missing boys who were on a canoeing trip through Deception Pass. (The parents were friends of mine.) He had to arrange a special invitation to assist from the sheriff of that area, and shortly after joining the search party, they did find their bodies. That, too, was my friend John Taylor.
John always said, “You don’t have to worry about me, Ray, I’ll be OK.” And he will be, because he was one of a kind.
Everett
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